


A Little Ass and A Lotta Sass

by PastPresentFiction



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Walking Dead Fusion, Character Death, Companionable Snark, Dry Humping, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Humor, Negan Being Negan (Walking Dead), Sexy Negan (Walking Dead)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:01:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 60
Words: 91,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23728735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastPresentFiction/pseuds/PastPresentFiction
Summary: Rick Grimes' oldest daughter, Callie, catches the eye of Negan during his first unannounced visit to Alexandria.  She thinks he's screwing with her dad's mind when he says if she'd been negotiating the night Glenn and Abe died, their group would have had better odds.  During the second visit, when he brings back Carl, she wonders if it's possible.  Could she actually be the key to bring Alexandria and the Saviors from the brink of war?  Is she willing to?
Relationships: Negan (Walking Dead)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 102
Kudos: 104





	1. Unimpressed Doesn't Begin to Cover It

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing of The Walking Dead. I own only Callie Grimes, and I'm pretty fucking proud of her if I do say so myself. 
> 
> And Negan? Who wants a beat down, calm and quiet Negan?

“Little pig, little pig-let me in,” I heard a gruff voice call from the gates with an accompanying metallic clang and rattle, as I was taking my little sister Judith out for a walk. Rolling my eyes, I let out a huff of breath and started back to our house.

I passed Dad as he was rushing to the gates, he paused long enough to kiss my forehead and hers. I smiled at him in encouragement and continued toward the house. Negan. The murderous psycho that killed two of ours wasn’t supposed to come by for another couple of days. I wasn’t surprised. Clearly he was an asshole.

I hadn’t been with the others during the mission to flatten the Saviors. Dad had decided that I was more helpful to them if I stayed in Alexandria and kept morale up, while also taking care of Judith. That was fine with me. Not that I was afraid of standing up for our people, but honestly, usually my mouth tended to get ALL of us in more trouble then we started with. My only excuse, and one I was careful not to use too often, was that I’d been an only child for my first six years of life. Dad and Mom had spoiled me rotten, and by the time Carl came along, well it was way too late to reign me in. My mouth at least. Mom had called me “Sassy Pants”.

Bouncing Judith in my arms, kissing her silky blonde curls, I considered whether I should rush inside and stay far away from Negan and his minions, or settle on the porch in one of the white rocking chairs and watch. Dad would probably want me to hide, with Judith, inside. Unfortunately, I rarely considered what Dad would want. I mean, I kind of wanted to see how horrific this dickhead was for myself. But I didn’t want him or his people to see Judith. I rushed into the house, carrying her upstairs, and was happy to see that she was clearly ready for a nap. I grabbed one of the baby monitor’s receivers and pushed it into the pocket of my skinny jeans. I had it turned loud enough to feel the vibrations, just in case she woke up in the middle of the unannounced visit.

Rushing back downstairs, I opened the front door and sat down on the top step. This would give me more options to run, if I chose the chair, jumping over the banister might break my damn leg. As I sat, I considered what Carl had told me about the night Abe and Glenn had died. The night Negan stole Daryl away. The night he nearly forced Dad to cut my baby brother’s arm off. I’d felt so much rage and pain since that night. Losing so much, especially when I saw how fucking broken he’d made Dad. Nothing had hurt him so much that he lost sight of what was important, but now? Now he was almost a husk.

Things had been tense, not just in the community, but in our house. Michonne and Dad seemed almost on pins and needles around one another. Carl looked like he’d rather do nothing other than storm the gates and take Negan’s head himself. And little Judith was picking up on the entire mess and making her sleep less restful. Me? I felt like I had when we first learned that the dead walked. Like nothing could get fucking worse, but then God laughed and considered that thought a fucking challenge.

I heard that same gruff voice give an order that made little sense, until I caught a glimpse of Dad walking beside a tall man in a leather jacket, barbed wire baseball bat on his shoulder. Negan, I thought, and then my eyes caught the reason for the order. “You don’t look at him, you don’t talk to him, and I don’t make you chop anything off of him.” Daryl was creeping alongside one of the minions. He was dressed in the dingiest sweats I’d ever seen, looking far worse than I’d ever seen him look before. Saviors? I snorted to myself. Sure.

I watched, trying to decide if Negan looked as scary as everyone felt he was. He came closer and more in focus, and I tilted my head. Dark hair, slicked back like an old fashioned greaser, a little gray brushing here and there. His face was far more salt than pepper, but his scruff looked too perfect, deliberately careless. The leather jacket was more fitted than I’d imagined. The bat was less intimidating, but then again, he wasn’t playing a disturbing game of “Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe” with me. The rest of him looked like most of the men in my life, just far cleaner than I thought he’d be.

“And what do we have here?” He whistled and I saw my dad flinch. Shit, guess I’d been too far inside my own head to realize they’d grown closer and now the asshole had his attention focused on me. “Shit, Rick, who the fuck is this little beauty?”

I rolled my eyes and stood, crossing my arms across my semi loose wine colored v-neck t-shirt. I really hoped he didn’t think I was going to fucking kneel like he’d made my family before he killed two of them, because that shit was NOT going to happen. He’d asked Dad to tell him who I was, so I didn’t feel the need to answer. Dad was looking at me like he’d wished I’d gone all the way inside, but I could also tell he was happy that Judith wasn’t with me.

“My daughter,” I wanted to scream at the quiet defeat I heard in Dad’s voice. “This is my daughter, Callie.”

“Fuck, Rick, if you’d brought her along to negotiate, you’d made it out far fucking better than you did.” Negan hadn’t taken his eyes off of me, rather off of my body, since he’d caught sight of me. “Your wife must have been fucking gorgeous.” He walked closer to me and I stood my ground. “And shit, she’s lookin’ at me like she doesn’t fuckin’ care who I am.” His dimples grew deeper as he shot me a smile that might have been charming if it wasn’t attached to a fucking psychopath. “Damn, darlin’, you gonna say ‘hello’ to your new leader?”

I raised an eyebrow and smiled just as deeply. “Sure,” I looked at my dad and said, “hello, Dad!” And gave him a little wave.

Negan gave a bark of laughter and stared up at me from his position on the bottom step. It wasn’t a far tilt of his head since I’m so goddamn short. “Fuck, you’ve got a fucking sassy ass attitude don’t ya.” I stared at him full on, refusing to be charmed or intimidated. “Shit, I swear to fuck your fucking mouth is making my dick hard.” I rolled my eyes, breaking contact first, but honestly what the hell?

“That sounds like a very personal problem.” I answered, and squinted at him. “Since, I’m guessing that bat on your shoulder is your compensation for the inadequate one in your pants, I don’t think you’ll have a problem working through it.”

Another loud laugh and I could fucking swear his eyes were twinkling at me. Shit, was this fucking foreplay for him? “Hot damn, you got a firecracker here, Rick the Dick!” He winked at me and turned back to Dad. As they walked away, I moved into the house thinking that I could last a fucking lifetime before I had to deal with that dickhead again.

The visit was terrible for so many reasons. They took our weapons. They took comforts, like mattresses and furniture. They took so much, and for what? For power? Because they could? When Carl tried to fight back, I was upstairs holding Judith. She could sense the tension in the air, I swear, and she’d become fussy. When I heard the shots, I clutched at her tighter, wondering if today would be the day that everyone died.

It wasn’t, but we weren’t safe. Luckily they’d left the food. Apparently Negan wasn’t as complementary to the other women, at least not poor Olivia. It was more than certainly better that I’d stayed inside. If I’d heard him make the obscene comments about her weight, I wouldn’t have been able to hold my tongue. Or my knife, to be fair. I hated when anyone shamed someone else for a perceived shortcoming. Fat shaming, slut shaming, any type of shaming was fucking wrong.

I heard Dad and Michonne discussing retaliation. Numbers, Dad says, are the issue. Savior numbers are far more vast than they had planned for, and he completely shoots down her idea of utilizing Hilltop. He urges her, and all of us to just learn to live the way we have to now. It’s our new reality.

A FEW DAYS LATER

I look all over for Carl, wondering where the hell the kid got to. Dad and Aaron are off trying to find supplies to satisfy their new overlord, and for once I cannot fucking believe that I’ve become Mom and lost Carl. Shit. Carrying Judith with me, I look from street to street, going all the way to the front gate and seeing nothing. I swear to fucking God, I think I am going to ring my brother’s fucking neck.

Hours pass, with Olivia visiting me and helping me keep Judith occupied. We talk about the things we miss from before, something I try really hard not to do when the rest of my family are around. It’s too painful, and it almost seems ungrateful seeing as we have all this.

“My cell phone,” I nearly moaned. “I swear, I used to threaten to throw the fucking thing in a ditch, but I’d kill to have it back, along with the people I used to text and call.” I sober at the thought.

She smiles at me. “Starbucks,” her eyes closed thinking of her daily dose of overpriced caffeine clearly. “All the complicated orders and my name misspelled on the cup.” We giggle, Judith starting to yawn.

“I’ll be right back,” I say, picking up the toddler and jogging upstairs to her room. I put her carefully in her crib and smooth her curls. “Sleep tight, baby Jude.” I whisper, kissing her forehead as she closes her eyes and drifts off.

I’m coming down the stairs when I heard voices. Thinking it’s only Carl, I call out, “I swear to fucking God, I’m going to strangle you.” As I clear the bottom step, I’m confronted with a leather-clad chest, and fuck, fuck, fuck more laughter.

“Strangle me?” Negan places his leather gloved hand over his chest as though I’d wounded him. “Fuck, I never thought I’d find a threat against my fucking life so fucking sexy.” His voice was low and I rolled my eyes again.

“Not you,” I growled, seeing my brother standing by Olivia, “him.” Carl didn’t have his bandage on and I returned my attention to the asshole blocking my path. “What the fuck did you do to him?”

Negan stepped back slightly, frowning at my tone. “Me? I didn’t do shit to him. He came at me, shot more of my men. Fuck, your people, your fucking brother can’t seem to get this shit through your fucking heads.” He was leaning forward now, regaining the intimidating image that may make someone else cower, but he clearly didn’t fucking know me.

I brushed past the overbearing asshole and pulled Carl to me. “Are you alright?” I asked, cupping his face in my hands, even if he was taller than me. “Where’s your bandage?”

“Why does he need it?” Negan’s voice demanded behind me. “He looks more badass now than he did with the fucking gun he tried to shoot me with.” I rolled my eyes and then focused on the terror in Olivia’s face. Oh for fuck’s sake.

“And her?” I asked, releasing Carl from my grasp and turning to face Negan with my hands on my hips. “What did Olivia do to make you upset her?”

He grinned, dimples trying to distract me by coming into play. “I may have teased her a little. I apologized and even offered to fuck her after she slapped me.”

I had to fight against rolling my eyes again. More time spent around him and I’d know what my own fucking brain looked like, enough to detail all the fucking wrinkles. “Do you think that’s charming- or?” I squinted up at him and watched him process what I was insinuating about his desirability.

“I’m Prince Motherfucking Charming, darlin’.” He winked at me and leaned closer. “For you? For you I’ll be anything you want.”

I lost the fight against rolling my eyes. “I suppose I should thank you for bringing my brother home. Dad isn’t here, he’s on a run to get you and your savages more supplies.” I make it sound cheery, waiting to see if he noticed that I should thank him, but I didn’t.

“Yeah, uh,” he looked toward Olivia and I could see he was confused about her name. “She told me about Rick. I think I’ll wait for him.”

I glared up at him. “Fine. There’s a porch right outside, make yourself at home there.” Southern hospitality it wasn’t, but I was trying to keep him far away from Judith.

He shook his head and started to wander through our house. I shot a look at Carl, televising that I was going to totally fucking ream him over coals for this. He had common sense to look a little bit ashamed.

“Olivia,” I said, looking at the woman that Negan had been so rude to. “Why don’t you head back?” I walked her to the door, once out of his earshot, I grinned at her. “You really fucking slapped him?” She nodded, a smile forming on her own face. “Way to fucking go, girl!” I hugged her goodbye and walked back into the living room.

Negan was taking in what was left of our luxuries. “Making yourself at home?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. “Don’t get too comfortable, I’m sure your minions will be around to collect you, after all you have complete power over everything. They probably can’t go potty without your approval.”

He turned to me, dimples in full bloom. “Darlin’, what the fuck did I do to you to get your panties in such a fuckin’ twist?” I noticed he’d placed the bat down, near enough for him to reach it, but down as though he really was at home. “Your dad did all this, sweetheart, not me. Why don’t you be a lamb and make a little lemonade?”

“What?” I asked, looking at him like he’d lost his fucking mind. “Before the world went to shit, did someone give you a proper diagnosis? I mean, you’re fucking insane, right? Like hard to pronounce, long latin worded, diagnostic insanity.” He was still grinning. “Does being insulted and smacked turn you on?” For fuck’s sake, what the fuck was wrong with him?

“No.” He answered, sitting on the couch and putting his feet up on the coffee table. Boots still on his fucking feet. “I’m not certifiable.” He turned his head to stare up at me. “And as for turning me on? Oh, sweetheart, that’s gonna be a LONG conversation for you and me real fuckin’ soon.” His dimples mocked me and I glared at him. “Now about that lemonade-”

“Get your fucking boots off the furniture,” I demanded, glare still firmly in place. “As for the lemonade? We’ll see.” I pointed at his feet.

He was there for HOURS. He did take his fucking boots off, then he moaned at the feel of the carpet on his bare feet. Moaned indecently, by the way, as though he thought that would somehow make me swoon. I made his fucking lemonade, only because we had the supplies for it readily available. Not because he requested it. He wasn’t my God for fuck’s sake.

Carl had disappeared upstairs, I hoped he was keeping Judith company because I didn’t want the idiot to see her. But of course, he wanted a fucking tour. And he found her nursery. He’d picked her up with more tenderness than I expected him to be capable of, glancing at me as he kissed her head and talked quietly to her.

“What?” I asked, as he alternated looks between the two of us. “Seriously, what are you doing?” I was about to reach for her and take her away from his grubby paws, but he just held her gently and actually fucking rocked her in his arms.

Another kiss on her head and he smiled at me. “You two look nothin’ alike.” I sighed, I was NOT going to explain Judith’s parentage to this idiot, no more ammo for him against my dad. “Course, you don’t look like your little brother either.”

I smirked, no I didn’t. I looked like my paternal grandmother. The auburn hair, the green eyes, my tiny stature, and from what Dad told me, my sass had come directly from her. “So?”

He shrugged and started toward the door with Judith still in his arms. “Nothing.” He answered, walking away.

He drank so much lemonade that I thought he must want to have that sour taste on his tongue for days. Then, as though holding us hostage with his presence was his only goal, he took Judith out to sit in the rocking chairs and held fucking court waving to the neighbors like he owned the fucking place.

I heard him say something that made no sense to me, but Carl understood. Then he offered a chilling thought, and I wondered if he were serious, or if this was one of his games. “Maybe I should just bury you both down there in the flower beds, then me and your hot as fuck older sister and this sweet angel in my lap could settle in the suburbs.” He chuckled and kissed Judith’s nose, staring at her sweet face asking, “What do you think about that?”


	2. Second Times...A Charm?

Negan kept Judith with him, which meant I stayed with him too. He shaved with Dad’s razor in Dad’s bathroom, smiling at me in the mirror. “Caught you starin’,” he winked, swiping the blade across his skin, missing no whisker and becoming younger with every swipe.

“Still trying to decide what’s mentally deficient about you,” I answered, smirking at his squinting eyes. “You’re like a science experiment, have to study it to have it make sense.”

Carl comes in and Negan starts giving him shaving advice, I roll my eyes at Carl and he grins back at me. Judith is bouncing on my lap and it would almost be a sweet scene, if it weren’t for the narcissistic dick holding us hostage.

After his shave, and more fucking lemonade, he made us dinner. Spaghetti with homemade sauce. He offered me the spoon to taste, and I considered refusing, but what the hell. I love pasta and if there’s a good sauce, I’ll take it. I flicked my tongue out to taste it, and heard him groan above me.

“Shit, darlin’, are you trying to get my dick hard?” His voice was low, quiet almost, so Carl wouldn’t hear. “Because let me tell you,” he leaned his head down close to my head, his breath fanning my hair. “You don’t have to fuckin’ try, I’ve been hard since I saw you on that fucking porch the other day.”

I tilted my head when he raised his. “Seriously?” I asked, staring into his eyes. “Do women actually fall for this shit?”

He chuckled, not the boisterous laughter as before, this came out low and deep and dark. “Like you won’t fucking believe, doll.”

I smirked up at him. “There’s at least one woman it doesn’t work on.” He stared back and I leaned forward, crooking my finger for him to come closer. When he did, I whispered in his ear, knowing my breath was hot against his skin. “Me.”

I turned away, and picked up Judith. “Carl, you can set the table, OK?” I yelled, moving to the stairs so I could change my sister. “I’ll be right back.”

Upstairs, I lean against Judith’s bedroom door. What the literal fuck is that man doing? Was he trying to seduce me? I bit my lip as I moved into the room to do what I said I was going to do. Changing Judith’s diaper and brushing her curls so they were back to some order, I considered for the very first time whether I could use Negan’s obvious interest in me to get Dad and Alexandria back to normal. I thought about one of my favorite classes from school. History. What had fighting kingdoms done in the past when they couldn’t stand war any longer? Didn’t they barter for marriage? Uniting the kingdoms. Could I do that? Would it work?

“Callie,” I heard Negan’s voice call up the stairs, and wondered if he had to ask Carl what my name was to use it. “Dinner’s ready.”

Dinner was a bit awkward. Mostly silent, I held Judith on my lap and offered her tiny bites from my plate. Negan was somewhat tense and he mentioned he was growing tired of waiting for Dad. “I suppose,” I said, clearing my throat and taking a sip of lemonade. “I suppose, I could keep you company while you wait.”

I didn’t look at him. Looking at him would mean he’d either look triumphant, or he’d brush the offer off. I felt Carl’s foot nudge mine under the table, and glanced up at him with a warning in my eye. Swallowing hard, I waited to see what Negan would do with what I proposed.

“And just how would you keep me company, darlin’?” I could hear the fucking cockiness in his voice and had to focus on feeding Judith another bite.

I shrugged, and felt him stand from the table and move to hover over the back of my chair. My heart thumped harder in my chest, wondering what I was possibly thinking with the offer, with the half formed plan in my mind. I felt his finger, ungloved now, trace the side of my neck, brushing my hair from my shoulder. I closed my eyes, wishing he’d stop while Carl was bearing witness.

“Carl, take your little sister out for a walk,” Negan’s voice was low, and I felt a flutter in my stomach. “Callie and I need to have a chat.”

Carl, clearly not wanting to witness whatever was coming anymore than I wanted him to, came around and took Judith from my arms. He looked down at me as I opened my eyes, fear and worry clear in his blue eye. I gave him a small smile, hoping that he understood that I’d be fine, hoping I was right about that.

Negan waited until he heard the front door shut behind Carl and Judith. I felt his breath against the side of my neck, the same side he’d traced with his finger. “Now, Callie, what type of company are you wanting to keep with me?”

I felt my chest tighten, if his finger was torture, the heat of his breath was a fucking nightmare. Jesus, what the hell was I doing. And why the fuck did I like it? I bit my lip and heard him groan. “Shit, baby girl, don’t bite it.” I felt his thumb touch my bottom lip and without thinking, my tongue flicked against the calloused pad. “Fuck.” I heard him swallow hard, his mouth so close to my neck that I could almost feel his lips. “I didn’t think you liked me, Callie.” He sounded different, almost unsure.

I turned, and found his face so close that our noses brushed. “I’m not sure I do.” My voice was breathless, our eyes locked together. And then his lips touched mine and I was lost. An indecent moan escaped from one of us, surely not me? Dear God, it was me, and then I was in his arms, clutching at his white t-shirt as his mouth fought with mine. Our tongues touched and it felt like fire running through me, all the way down to where my crotch was tight against the denim of my jeans. His face was smooth from his shave, my fingers touching where his dimples were still indented. Then my hands were tight in his hair, holding his mouth to mine.

We finally parted for the urge to breathe, not to stop. I felt him lift me on to the bare part of the dining room table, his hands gripping my waist and tugging me forward before laying me back. His lips were on my neck as he hovered over me, standing between my open legs. I felt his hot kisses on my skin, the graze of his teeth, his tongue flicking against my pulse. Jesus, I thought, maybe this wasn’t such a fucking bad idea.

I felt his hips lower, rocking his denim clad and very hard dick against my own covered pelvis. Shit, I thought, arching up against him for more friction. He moaned into my collarbone, and I felt him give me a gentle nip. “Fuck, don’t stop.” He rocked against me as I rolled back against him. Feeling like the world could stop right fucking now, and neither of us would notice. My legs wrapped around his waist, holding him against me as we rutted against one another, moaning and gripping one another. His mouth kissing the skin available above the v-neck of my t-shirt and I could feel it build. Something I hadn’t had in far too fucking long. Biting my lip, my fingers clutching his head, pulling at his hair, I came hard against his thrusting hips. I felt him tense and knew, like anyone who’d ever taken their dry humping too far, that he had too.

“Fuck,” he breathed into my chest. “Just had me cumming in my jeans like a fucking teenager.” I was breathing hard too, but that made me laugh. He looked up at my face, propping his chin beneath my breasts. “Oh, shit, darlin’ if that’s what we can do with our fucking clothes on, what the fuck’s gonna happen when we’re naked?”

“Who says we’re ever going to get naked?” I asked, leaning up on my elbows. “I only agreed to keep you company until Dad gets back. I never agreed to more.”

I was saved from further explanation when a knock came to the front door. Negan, shooting me a look that I couldn’t decipher, pulled himself up and off of me. I glanced down at his jeans, and grinned. Yep, a wet spot. “Get the fucking door,” he ordered, rushing up the stairs to no doubt steal something from Dad’s limited wardrobe.

Spencer was at the door, having convinced a Savior guard I hadn’t noticed earlier to let him pass. Bottle of liquor in his hand, wanting to suck up to the new master, I guessed. He took in my appearance and I wondered what he was seeing. I knew my jeans didn’t have a noticeable wet spot, but I hadn’t even glanced in the mirror on my way to the door.

“I’d like to speak to Negan,” he said, and I wondered if he practiced in the mirror.

I heard his gruff voice behind me. “You do, do you?” The heat of Negan’s body was close enough to my back for me to know he was almost pressed against me. He looks at his guard, and snorts. “Don’t be an asshole, come on-” he looks at Spencer, and moves gently past me, his hand on my waist and I notice that Spencer takes note of it.

“Spencer Monroe,” Spencer offers his hand as Negan stands in front of me. I watch as they take seats in the rocking chairs and move to go inside.

“Callie,” Negan’s voice is almost singsong, like he had been at the gate. “Bring us a couple of glasses, darlin’.” I glare at them both, but neither of them are watching me. Throwing my hands up, I walk inside and slam the door.

I gather up two smaller glasses and stomp outside. Slamming them down on the banister in front of Negan, I move to stomp back inside, but his hand on my wrist stops me. “We still have a conversation to have, Callie.” He promises, his fingers trailing down to my hand. “I won’t forget.” I pull away and walk more quietly back inside. Closing the door, less forcefully than before, I lean against it and wonder what the fuck I got myself into.

I move to the downstairs bathroom and take stock of how I look in the mirror. Well fuck, I thought. My hair, which I’d left down for once, was a tangle of curls. My lips were definitely swollen and darker from the rough kissing. And, I tilted my head and glared at my neck, was that a fucking hickie?! For fuck’s sake, that bastard marked me.


	3. Am I Dreaming?  Is It Brain Damage?  Shit, I'm Dead, Aren't I?  Dead?

Upstairs, in the room that once held a comfortable bed, I look out the window at the bizarre scene before me. Why the fuck was there a pool table in the street? What the fuck was Spencer trying to do with Negan?

I heard Carl come back and checked my neck. I’d found some concealer in one of the bathrooms and hoped beyond hope that it was covered completely. Negan would get a fucking earful over the very idea he could mark me. What the literal fuck was he thinking? A small voice inside me knew, knew that he did it on purpose. That it was to mess with Dad’s mind just a little bit more. Well, screw that fucking nonsense.

I heard a quiet knock on my bedroom door and called out for Carl to come in. He wasn’t carrying Judith, but before I could ask, he said he put her in her crib. “She’s had a long day.”

I snorted, “haven’t we all?” I saw my baby brother looking at me in curiosity and sighed. “What if he wasn’t kidding the other day, Carl?” I’d told Carl the absurdity of Negan’s first meeting with me. “What if giving myself to him would end it?”

Carl considered what I was saying, and I knew, from seeing him grow harder in this new reality that he wasn’t only thinking about it from a brother’s point of view. “He has multiple wives, Callie.” He said, glancing down at me where I sat on the window sill. “You hate sharing ANYTHING.” He grinned, and I rolled my eyes. Yeah, OK I didn’t like to share my things. And I definitely didn’t want to share a man. “He looks at you differently than them though.” I raised an eyebrow. “What? He took me on a tour of The Sanctuary. I met them, sort of.” I saw his face tint red. “You’re different from them. A lot different.”

“Not pretty enough?” I asked, rolling my eyes. Like I gave a shit if I didn’t look like a centerfold. “Not cultured enough?”

“More like, you have actual skills.” Carl said, taking a seat in the other window. “I have a feeling that his ‘wives’ only have the skill of-” The red deepened and I nodded my understanding so my poor brother wouldn’t have to force the words out. “And I think he knows that.” He gestured down, to where Negan seemed to be playing more than pool with Spencer. “When you told me what he said in front of Dad? I thought what you thought, he was screwing with him. Today? I saw he’s not.”

I considered his words, as I saw things grow tense. “Shit, I’ve got to get downstairs.” I rushed from the room, feeling Carl follow me. “Maybe you should stay inside, keep Judith safe.” He nodded and stopped at the top of the stairs.

I made it outside just as all the shit hit the fucking fan. Spencer’s insides were spilling onto the pavement. Then Rosita was firing a gun, where the fuck did she get a gun?! And I flinched, hearing the bullet hit something. The bat, the fucking bat. It hit the goddamn, fucking bat. The guard from the porch was on top of Rosita in a heartbeat. Blood was seemingly every fucking where. And then, one of the Saviors, I didn’t pay attention to who, shot Olivia point blank in the forehead. I sank to the top step of the porch, feeling like throwing up, crying, and possibly throwing up again.

It didn’t shock me that Eugene could make a bullet. It didn’t shock me that Olivia was taken in retaliation for Rosita lying about who manufactured the bullet. It didn’t surprise me that Dad showed up somewhere in the fucking middle of the madness. Nothing surprises me anymore.

I lie, one thing sure as fuck shocked the hell out of me. Negan, kneeling in front of me on the steps, checking to see if I was alright that was a shock for me. And for Dad. And for every single person standing in the street watching. His hand curving against my cheek, his fingers brushing my curls out of my face, his eyes tight with concern. That shit shocked and unnerved me. What the literal fuck was happening?

“Callie?” His voice was rough, but filled with concern. “Sweetheart, are you alright? Come on, sunshine, tell me if you’re ok?”

I sighed. I looked up. Great a fucking audience. “I’m fine.” I whispered, glancing at my dad whose mouth was open. “I’m OK.” I said louder, touching Negan’s hand with mine. “It was just a little bit much. A lot much, actually.” I stood up, closing my eyes so I wouldn’t see the blood and gore just outside our yard. “I need to,” and then I did something so fucking girly that I was happy I didn’t have to witness it, I fucking fainted.

I came to on the couch in our house. I blinked the dizziness away, and tried to sit up but a couple sets of hands stopped me. What the hell?

“You need to give yourself a minute, honey.” Ah, Dad was here. Good, Dad was good.

Another voice came from the other side, and I nearly groaned. “He’s right, baby girl, just lay back and take it easy.” Negan. Negan and my dad were taking care of me? Together?

“I’m FINE.” I ground out through clenched teeth. “I’m embarrassed because, did I really fucking swoon on the fucking front porch in front of God and every fucking one?” I sighed and lay back on the couch, hoping it would swallow me whole. I heard the two of them share a chuckle and nearly died. This could not be fucking happening. Nope, I clearly have brain damage. That’s the only way the two of them could be laughing and coexisting in the same fucking house after the carnage that just occurred. No doubt I’d wake up in the infirmary, without a fucking doctor, and be allowed to die of my shame alone.

“I’m telling you, Rick, she’s a fucking pistol.” I pulled one of the small decorative pillows from under my head to cover my face, hoping that smothering myself would end the wrongness of this moment.

I heard Dad sigh and answer, “you truly have no fucking idea.” Really? Honestly, Dad, really? This is what it takes for the two of you to have a calm conversation? Me fucking embarrassing myself?

I threw the pillow aside and glared up at the two of them. “Did a truce get signed when I was out?” I asked, waiting for them to realize I was a functioning human who could fucking hear them. “I mean, I literally fainted from that fucking scene outside, which would make a truce right now fucking weird.”

Negan grinned down at me, those fucking dimples mocking me. “No truce, sweetheart, just a momentary ceasefire.” I felt his fingers slide along my jaw. “You fucking scared us both.”

I rolled my eyes, seriously I need to find a new way to show my irritation. “I fainted, I didn’t get shot.” I bit out, remembering Olivia. “I didn’t get cut open.” I could still see Spencer’s insides on the outside. “I didn’t find a gun out of nowhere and fired it at a bat.” I groaned. “And I sure as fuck didn’t get marked because I shot a fucking bat.” I sat up, ignoring the two of them trying to stop me. “Seriously, what would it fucking take to stop all this?” I shot Dad the look first, then Negan got a matching one. “Tell me?”

I watched the two of them look at one another. They almost mirrored each other when they both ran their hands over their faces. I waited, wondering if either of them even knew what it would take to stop it. “Seems like this is hard work.” I stood up and rolled my shoulders. “How about the two of you figure it out and get back to me.”

I walked carefully to the stairs, and would swear to my dying day that I heard them murmuring behind me. I hoped that I didn’t have a fucking concussion that was making me imagine it, because if me fainting like a delicate lady got the two of them to the negotiating table, then I was all for it.

I must have fallen asleep. I sort of remembered Michonne checking on me. I think Carl might have come in to see if I was alright too. I didn’t hear Negan leave. I didn’t hear my dad talking to anyone. I heard and saw nothing, letting the exhaustion of my day, and the trauma of all the blood and gore take me under into a dreamless sleep.

The brightness of the sun made me groan the next morning. I hated mornings. I would never be that girl who pops out of bed and feels like a Snow White chipper. And the worse part? I hate coffee. So I didn’t even have that first cup of liquid caffeine to make the morning worthwhile.

I rolled over onto the blanketed floor and glared at the mere thought of how my former fucking bed felt. Honestly, one of these days, I was going to smack the fucking hell out of every Savior who participated in the removal of our mattresses. Starting at the fucking tippity top and working my way all the fuck to the grunts at the bottom.

Like I said, I hate mornings. I hate mornings that I wake up with a back that feels like I slept on a hard fucking floor because surprise, I did sleep on the fucking hard floor. Glaring at the sun, at the few birds attempting to make other people happy they were up and going, and at the fucking floor, I stood up and stretched. I rolled my shoulders, my neck, and tried to get the kinks out of all my fucking parts. I’m too fucking young to feel this fucking sore.

Then I remembered the day before. The dining room table. Negan’s mouth, shit, the fucking hickie. I grabbed the concealer, some clean clothes, and rushed to the bathroom between my room and Carl’s. Taking a brief, but thorough shower, I stood in front of the mirror and checked the reddish purple mark. It wasn’t huge, so that was fucking lucky. Using my fingers to blend the concealer into my skin, I wondered what had happened after I left the living room last night. Had Dad and Negan come to any type of understanding? Would they ever come to a fucking realistic agreement?

I gave an indignant snort. I’d be a thousand years old before the two of them stopped butting heads and killing one another’s followers. Brushing my hair and pulling it up into a loose knot on the top of my head, I tugged my tank top over my head and pulled it down to settle on my hips. Yanking a pair of leggings up and then socks and a pair of boots to complete my fashion statement. Sure, today Callie Grimes will be displaying an apocalypse grunge with a side of dear God are you really wearing that in public.

Putting my dirty clothes in the basket we kept in the bathroom, I noted that there wasn’t enough for a turn of laundry. I’d have to check Dad and Michonne’s, as well as Judith’s, but I may be able to put off laundry for a few days. Thinking my luck was taking a turn for the better, I jogged down the stairs. Since Michonne and Dad were home, they’d have gotten Judith up for the day, if not Carl. I bounced off the last stair and was about to shout out my usual obnoxious greeting, but I ran straight into a solid wall of flesh. Fuck.

Looking up, I nearly fell down. Negan. In our house. In the morning. Fuck. His arms reached out to steady me. Hands tight on my arms, fingers sliding against my bare skin. Dear fucking God, what fresh hell is this?

“Morning, sweetheart,” his voice was low and thick and I felt my stomach clench. Fuck. That was clearly going to be my most favorite word now. If it wasn’t already, then it was definitely now.

I knew my mouth was hanging open. I knew I looked like a mouth breathing moron. I knew so many things, none of them attractive or helpful. I also knew I had to speak, because he was starting to look concerned again. “Morning?” It was a question. Definitely I had questions.

He chuckled, a quiet sound that made me wonder if anyone else was awake. Then I heard Dad’s voice calling from the kitchen. OK, not alone. “Morning, Dad,” I called, pulling away from Negan’s grip. I swallowed, so many fucking questions, and walked to the kitchen. My family was there, along with, I squinted, was that fucking Daryl?

“Morning, honey,” Dad answered, feigning a type of unconcern that I couldn’t grasp.

I stood in the entryway, trying feverishly to make sense of what I was seeing. Daryl, no longer in the dingy gross sweats, but in his normal garb, including leather vest was perched tensely on one of the bar stools. Michonne and Dad were sitting at the table, Judith between them being fed bites of breakfast. Carl was across the table smiling at our sister. Yep, I had brain damage. Clearly, I was either damaged, or I was dead. There was absolutely no fucking way that this was real.

I felt the heat from Negan’s body press up against my back and thought that I was having a very vivid dream. Or vivid death. Or vivid brain damage. I felt his fingers dance along my arms and bit my lip. Dead. I was dead. That’s the only way he could be touching me in front of these people and not be killed. Well, fuck, I thought, it could be worse. I could be biting people and frothing at the mouth.

“You look so fucking confused, angel.” Negan said, his voice quiet. “What’s wrong?”

What’s wrong? I thought about it. Being dead would suck, but I had pretty damn near everything I’d want in the afterlife. Wait, where was Mom? If I was dead, she was dead, then why wasn’t she here? I squinted and thought about it.

“God, Callie, quit standing there gaping,” Carl rolled his eyes, and patted my usual chair.

Dad grinned at me, looking far more comfortable than he had in weeks. “Sweetheart, come over here, we have some things to chat about.”

I shrugged my shoulder, thinking that if I was dead, then it couldn’t possibly be bad news.

An hour later, or more, and I was still more than a little fucking confused. Dad and Negan. Michonne and Daryl. Even Carl was trying to get me to understand. And yet, here I was, still fucking confused.

I held up a hand, as they tried to start over. “Stop.” I blinked, looking around the room. Seeing nothing that would scream dream world, like say a fucking unicorn, I shut my eyes for a second. Opening them back up, I repeated the gist of what they’d been saying. “So, last night, after my spectacular swoon, the two of you-” I pointed at Dad and Negan. “Decided that it was in everyone’s best interest to stop the bullshit. But only if,” I cleared my throat and sighed, “I agree to be with you.” I dropped the finger pointing at Dad and but kept the other one on Negan. “And none of you thought I should be brought into the negotiations?”

I was feeling slightly hysterical. I considered stabbing myself with a fork, just to make sure that I could feel something. You know like pinching yourself to see if you’re awake. Except extreme. In case I was dead.

Dad took my hand. “Sweetie, it’s entirely up to you.” Sure, I thought, peace, but only if I agree to it. “Even if you don’t, Negan and I will try to find another way.”

I glanced at Daryl. “You’re free because of-”

“Peace offering,” Negan said, sitting across from my dad. “Figured that it would show good faith from me, after the strain of yesterday.”

Seriously, dead. I picked up Carl’s fork and stabbed at my hand, causing everyone to freak out. I felt it, damn did I fucking feel it. Blood blossomed under where the four prongs dug into my skin. Shit. Fuck. Shit.

“What the fuck?!” Negan yelled, taking the fork from me and grabbing my hand in his. “What the fuck did you fucking do that for?”

OUCH, I couldn’t think for a second. That was fucking stupid, but hey, I’m not dead. Or dreaming. Shit. “I thought I was dead,” I answered, taking my hand from his and standing to rush to the sink. I carefully washed the wounds and wrapped a towel around it. I knew everyone was watching me, thinking I’d lost my fucking mind, but what did they expect?

“Dead?” Dad said, swallowing hard. “Why would you think you were-”

Daryl did something no one expected, he started laughing. Clearly he understood, but then again, he always saw what others didn’t. “She thought she was dead, cause if she was alive, this shit ain’t gonna happen.” He clutched at his sides, and I noticed a bandage on his shoulder.

“That-” I pointed at Daryl and nodded. “Is fucking on point.”

Dad joined Daryl’s chuckling, and soon everyone except Negan was. Well, Negan and me. I was in fucking pain. Shit. Fuck. Shit. Negan walked to me, and took my wrapped hand gently in his. “You thought you had to be dead, just so we could come to terms?” He asked, still not completely getting it.

“No, I thought I was dead because you came to it without another fucking body to add to the growing mass fucking grave.” I answered, letting my fingers touch his palm. “I thought I was dead because the last time I saw Daryl he was in the ugliest sweats a human has ever had the misfortune to put on their body, and now he’s sitting in my fucking kitchen in his usual clothes, including that damn vest. I thought I was dead because you touched me in front of Dad and didn’t get bludgeoned.” I sighed and looked up at him. “And I thought I was dead, because you all put this promise of peace on my fucking shoulders, and they-” I jerked my head toward my family. “Know I don’t fucking share ANYTHING, and Carl tells me you’re a polygamist.”

Understanding flashed over his face. “Oh.” He said, letting my hand go.

I looked down, realizing that I just ruined the whole fucking deal, but I wouldn’t settle. It wasn’t me. And to be honest, I may not share, but I wasn’t even fucking sure that I wanted him. At all. I mean one dry hump on the dining room table did not make a relationship.


	4. OK, So I'm NOT Dead.  Everything Is Just Topsy Turfy.  Carry On.  Carry On.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seriously though, that's a LOT of pressure for someone who isn't totally sure that buying the pig is worth the quality of sausage...RIGHT?

I left the kitchen after explaining myself as much as I could. Running back upstairs, I decided to do the fucking laundry anyway. Why not? I was clearly alive. Clearly awake. And clearly not brain damaged. Plus the added bonus of not having to deal with everyone’s fucking expectations above what to use for fabric softener.

Grabbing the basket from the bathroom I shared with Carl, I moved to Judith’s bedroom and added the clothes and cloth diapers to our basket. Then I went to the master bathroom and added Michonne’s and Dad’s to the mix. I was leaving their bathroom when I saw I wasn’t alone. Michonne stood leaning against the closed bedroom door. Great. A new lecture.

“Callie,” she started, smiling the brilliant smile that made me like her the first time I saw it. “This is weird, for all of us.” She moved to sit where the bed used to live, but glared at the empty space like I had glared at mine earlier. “Damn it.”

I giggled. Yep, I thought, it sucks when you want to build up an expectation for a relationship and you realize the other half is Satan’s offspring. “Isn’t that a fucking irritation?” I asked, scrunching up my nose at the blankets that now constituted our beds. “The man I’m supposed to share with some useless bimbos and who stole our fucking beds. One and the same.” I nodded, sitting the basket of dirty clothes down. I mimicked her leaning against the bedroom door by leaning against the wall.

She sighed, realizing selling me on Negan was going to be far more difficult than she’d originally thought. “He seems to be more interested in you than your father assumed.” Lame, I thought, lame and really fucking minimal in the ‘reasons to start a relationship’ category.

I shrugged and offered my theory. “I’m a shiny new toy that he wants to add to his toy box full of shiny toys.” I bit my lip, I knew that I’d considered it only yesterday, but now? Now it wasn’t really my choice or my idea. That wasn’t even remotely interesting to me. I nodded, realizing that was the major issue I had with the situation, that and sharing anything with anyone. Ugh.

“Callie,” Michonne’s voice sounded like a cross between trying to get me to be reasonable and trying to make me acknowledge that it may be worth it to at least bring peace.

“I did consider it, you know.” I said, looking into her dark eyes. “Yesterday, while Dad and you were gone. I wondered if it would work.” I let my head fall back against the wall. “I didn’t know about the other wives when I allowed myself to wonder. I didn’t know that Dad and him would think it up without me being included in the negotiations.” I sighed. “I don’t even know if I LIKE him, Mich.”

That made her chuckle. “Well, I think that makes ALL of us, Callie.” I smirked at her. “But all of us saw how he treated you when you fainted yesterday. He carried you inside, he stood guard over you demanding for the doctor to be brought from the Sanctuary.” I raised an eyebrow at that, I didn’t even notice if the doctor came. “We cancelled the very idea of the doctor coming, you fainted, it never happened before, but he’d caught you before you hit your head.” She bit her own lip. “And he brought Daryl back. He even has his damn bike and crossbow back.” Shit, was this all true? “His people, they were as shocked as you seem to be.”

I considered what she was saying. Negan. Brain beating baseball bat wielding Negan. The man who cut open Spencer without blinking. Who ordered someone to be shot over Rosita’s move at attempted assassination. Negan wanted me. Well, fuck. What was I supposed to do with this fucking information?

“Think about it, Callie.” She offered, opening her bedroom door. “There isn’t a time constraint for your decision.” She winked and offered the best advice a woman could give another. “Personally? I’d make him beg.”

I did the laundry. SLOWLY. Like more slowly than I’d ever tried to do laundry before. And I stayed with it. The entire fucking time. I think I may have hypnotized myself watching the clothes go round and round in the wash. I was leaning against the wall opposite the machines, considering the pros and cons of agreeing to become whatever to Negan. Not a wife, right? I mean it seemed like he tossed that term around to anything with a wet slit, and to be honest, that was weird and concerning.

So CON: Negan seemed to take commitment with a grain of salt and a side of wow that chick’s hot, wife her up.

He took care of me when I decided to faint like a freaking weakling. Even catching me before I could get the brain damage I’d been worried about this morning.

PRO: He could put aside the rampant God complex and narcissism when called for.

I thought about the way he spoke to Olivia, before she was unceremoniously shot. The shaming, the weird theory that offering sex would fix the shaming.

CON: He’s a dick. A huge, irritating dick. Sometimes?

I bit my lip and thought about Glenn and Abe. I thought about Carl without his bandage. I thought about Daryl, but then reconsidered Daryl since he was home now, but was he OK? Fuck that’s a circular thought of doom. I thought about Spencer, but honestly I’d never trusted him or his family. I thought about Rosita, but had to put her in the category of making your bed and now you lay in it. I mean who tries to kill someone who’s being guarded by all those fucking weirdos?

CON: He’s probably a psychopath. He’s more than definitely a psychopath.

PRO: He’s a murderous psychopath, but he keeps people safe? Jesus, that was weak even for me. OK, he’s a psycho who killed someone who showed their lack of loyalty. To my DAD.

I thought about the dining room table. About how we felt against one another. How his mouth felt, the promise of more, of better. I flushed from the thought of him naked, pressed against me and nearly slid down the wall. Shit.

PRO: Negan was very clearly sex on legs. A walking, talking promise of multiple orgasms. And the mouth on him.

“You look like you’re thinking way too fucking hard about something, darlin’.” My eyes closed and I fought the urge to scream. Who the fuck told him where to find me? “Carl.” So he could read my fucking thoughts now.

I opened my eyes to find him standing in front of me, hip leaning against the washer. Shit, fuck. Damn it. “I was making a list.” I answered, licking my lip and watching his eyes lock on my mouth.

“A list?” His voice sounded far huskier than the thought of a list should make. “What kind of list, angel?”

I smirked. Dear God, he was fucking horny. From me licking my lip. “A pro/con list. About you.”

His eyes lifted to mine. An eyebrow raised. “Really?” He moved toward me, his body close but not touching mine. “Do I wanna know how good or bad the list is?”

I shook my head, fighting the urge to touch him. Anywhere. “I’m not sure you want to know.” I answered, feeling breathless again. Fuck. Really, Callie?

His fingers, now encased in his leather gloves, touched my chin. “Oh, now I damn well fucking do wanna know.” He bit his lower lip and my eyes flicked to it. Damn it, it wasn’t just one sided.

I sighed, and tilted my head to study him. “You asked for it.” I warned, and then I listed them, one by one.

“Sex on fucking legs?” Of course he’d pick that one. The only one that he’d even hear, no doubt. “Damn, and you said you didn’t think you liked me. Fuck, baby doll, I think you like me a whole fucking lot.”

I rolled my eyes. Yep, I was going to end up going blind from that. “Did you miss the others? Cause they are just as, if not more, important than that one.”

He scoffed. “The rest? Nah, those aren’t important, because I can’t fix those easily. Not here. Not now. But that one, oh, darlin’ that one I can fucking fix right the fuck now.”

I licked my lip and then his mouth was on mine, pressing me against the wall, his body tight against mine. He moved his mouth long enough to make a promise that I fucking hoped he could keep. “I’m gonna fuck you so good, sweetheart, that the ONLY fucking thing you’re gonna remember is my fucking name.” His hips rocked into me and I felt how fucking hard he was. “My name and how to fucking scream it.”

I moaned. I’m not proud of it. I’m not exactly ashamed by it either, but I sounded so wanton and I may have thrust my hips forward at the promise. Jesus, in the laundry room? My body was screaming “YES, IN THE FUCKING LAUNDRY ROOM, YOU MORON” while my mind was quiet. Damn it, today my fucking overactive brain takes a break?

Negan was tugging my tank up pulling it over my head and groaning at the proof that I was braless. “Fuck, Callie.” His leather gloved hands slid over my nipples and I nearly came from that touch alone. Dear fucking God, I called it. Multiple orgasms in my future. Fuck, multiple orgasms in this fucking laundry room. Guaranteed. I felt his breathing grow ragged as his hands slid lower, sliding under the elastic waistband of my yoga pants. I lurched into his touch. Those fucking gloves may be bringing a new kink into my world. “You like that don’t you, baby girl?” I felt his lips against my earlobe. A nip on the flesh there and I felt that same fire rush through me. Fuck. I was only half undressed and I was already a mess of need. He might have been right yesterday, and that fucking burned my ass.

I pushed him back, knowing that if he really didn’t want to move, I wouldn’t have been able to budge him. I tore the leather jacket from his shoulders. Screw the clothed male, half nude female vibe going on. He was going to be as fucking naked and shameless as me or no fucking deal. The shirt was next. On the floor with the growing pile of our clothes. My hands yanked at the first belt at his waist. “Why the fuck are you wearing multiple belts?” I growled, freeing one then starting on the other. “Don’t fucking try to tell me you have to keep your cock under lock and key because it's so fucking impressive,” I glared up at him, fucking daring him to start a joke now, of all times. He didn’t, hopefully he was teachable about the proper time and place for that shit. The second belt free, I popped the button on his jeans. I looked up at him and realized he was stunned. Absolutely fucking stunned by me. I raised an eyebrow, and smiled. Oh, this was going to be so much fucking fun. “You ok, Negan?” I asked, letting my finger pull his zipper down. It was obscenely loud, even with the machines going, even with him panting above me. He gulped and nodded. Holy shit, I’ve rendered him mute. I licked my lips, and that did it. He shoved his jeans down, kicking his boots off and yanked me to him. Well shit, I didn’t even get to enjoy the view.

“You’re fucking going to pay for that, little girl.” He growled against my lips. I smirked. Sure, I thought, right up until I do this. I trailed one finger down his chest, stopping only when he went completely still. He was panting again, and I smiled as his eyes closed. Huh, wonder what the cost would be for rendering Negan fucking speechless?

With the hand that wasn’t mesmerizing him, I lowered my own pants. I kicked off my boots, noticing that he’d at least been able to open his eyes to watch something. Then, fully naked, just like him, I crooked that same finger with a clear challenge. Bring it.


	5. Promises, Promises...Wait, Dear God...Damn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK so maybe the pig was worth it. Possibly. I'm still not completely fucking sure...

I watched Negan heave a long breath into his lungs as I pressed my completely naked body back against the same wall I’d been leaning against when he came into the room. I waited, wondering if he was ready to keep either of his promises. I bit my lip and that was all it took to move him.

His mouth crashed down on mine. My moan was swallowed by his mouth and searching tongue. His gloved fingers, gripped my waist, and then I was airborne. He lifted me and the next thing I knew, I was sitting on the counter we used to fold the clothes on. Those leather clad fingers slid up my body, finding my taunt nipples and tweaking them. Another moan, and I felt him smirk against my lips. Fuck. Such a fucking dick, and then I felt it. His actual fucking dick.

So, truth time. Remember when I insinuated that the bat was compensation for what he was actually packing? Um, that’s not entirely accurate. I mean the man isn’t like beast sized, but he’s ample. Very ample.

I slid my own fingers down his chest to where his hardness was lying between my thighs. Dear lord, I thought, feeling the breath leave him as my fingers descended. Ah, there it is, that rush of power I felt before. I finally found it, him. My hand encircled the soft skin that was also so very rigid. His lips left mine as he let out a sound I never heard a human make before. Holy shit, I literally held him in the palm of my hand.

I gave his length a gentle tug and his head buried in my neck. I felt him shudder. What was that about paying the price? Weird, seemed like he might have to pay me. “Negan?” I whispered, my voice sounding like music even to me. “Negan, are you ok, baby?” I felt the goosebumps on his arm as my hand moved to hold it while I continued to stroke him.

I felt his teeth bite my shoulder and I removed my hand. “No more fucking marks,” I growled, feeling him chuckle against my skin. A flick of his tongue and then he moved his head so we were face to face again.

“Jesus, Callie,” his voice was rawer than I’d heard yet. “What the fuck are you doing to me?”

I let my palm collect a sample of the precum oozing out of his head and went back to stroking him slowly, but with enough pressure to make him hiss. “Handjob?” I offered, raising my shoulder.

He chuckled, low and dark. “Clearly.” He started to thrust into my hand. “I mean this,” he lowered his mouth to mine again and there it was, the fucking flames of hell flicking over me. “Don’t you feel it too?” His mouth was still on mine, the question a whisper. “Fuck,” he groaned, fucking my hand.

I kissed him, wanting to make him come undone, but also really really wanting him to keep his first promise. “Is this all you want, Negan?” I asked, quickening my hand and feeling his breath grow more ragged. “Just my hand?”

He growled, and then he was gone from my hand. “NO.” He pulled my hips forward, and moved one gloved hand down my body, making my skin flush with heat. “What I fucking want, if I recall,” his grin grew and there were those fucking dimples again. “Is for you to be a screaming mess with only my fucking name coming out those sassy fucking lips of yours.” His thumb met my wetness and he whistled. “Look at that, fuck, baby doll, is that for me?” He bit his lip and pulled his thumb away. “Usually we’d have hours of preamble. Fucking hours of my face tight against that sweet little pussy of yours,” he licked the taste of me from his glove. “And fuck is that sweet. Unfortunately, today is not that day.” He lined himself up with my opening and slammed into me.

Fuck, I arched my back and rolled forward to keep him inside of me as he began a fast and frenzied pace. Jesus, he was going to fucking kill me. I could still think of things other than his name, and I wasn’t screaming yet, so he wasn’t fucking keeping his promise. My legs wrapped around his hips and I leaned forward to take one of his nipples into my mouth. I heard and felt him shudder. Good. Now get to fucking work. His gloved hand came down between us, flicking against my clit and there it was, I could still come up with rational thoughts, but fuck that was pretty fucking- OH SHIT. “FUCK!” I screamed, arching harder against him as he used two fingers to pinch it. I felt the orgasm screech through me and moved harder against him, chasing for another. Still, as the aftershocks kept rushing through me, fuck was clearly not Negan. No dice on that promise, yet.

I looked up at him, his eyes were so fucking dark I nearly lost my breath. I bit my lip, forcing him to take my mouth again. His thumb was stroking me as he continued his pace. Then his lips left mine and found the crook where my neck met my shoulder and I felt it, an actual fucking bite followed by a suck. “NEGAN!” I screamed, not from what he promised, but more from the fact that I’d fucking warned him. I felt him chuckle against my skin and nearly smacked him, but then he moved his hips just a little differently and I couldn’t fucking think about why I wanted to do anything other than this. With him. FUCK. “Oh, fuck!” I moaned and he heard it, the fact that he found IT. And that was what he’d been looking for clearly, because then he focused on it, that spot. And he hit it over and over and over. And finally, he fulfilled part of his promise. His name spilled from my lips, not in irritation, but in prayer. In need. In want. And fuck, he was right, because that was all I could think of. Him. His name. Inside of me and everywhere.

When it stopped. Our foreheads were pressed together and our eyes locked. Both of us were breathing hard and he was still inside of me. Growing softer by the second, but I thought that neither of us were ready to let go. Not yet. Not now.

As our breathing slowed, then our pulses, I realized he was still holding me. Still inside of me, if only barely. Dear fucking God, they were right. All of them. Shit.

Was it weird that it wasn’t weird afterward? That he helped me clean up, which was more than thoughtful since I was filled to the brim with HIM. That he and I dressed, comfortably, as though this was an average Tuesday. Nothing to see here, people, we do this shit all the fucking time. That he kept his eyes on me while I folded the laundry. That we talked about everything and nothing at the same time.

When I had the basket full of our clean clothes, he took it from me and led the way out of the room. Shit. I just realized that I fucked Negan, or was FUCKED by Negan, loudly in our fucking laundry room. I worked really hard to feel shame for it. Strange that none came. Yep, just another Tuesday, people. Well, isn’t this a fucking conundrum? What the hell was I supposed to do now?


	6. And Dad Wins for Being the Best Cold Shower in the World...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martyr? Saint? Savior? Yeah, none of those sounded right to me either. Why was it so fucking tempting to be with someone so fucking obnoxious? And that's a question that I think the both of us were asking, especially right about now...

I’m sure that most women, after having mind-blowing sex in their laundry room with the devil’s favorite son would have gladly jumped in whichever vehicle that would take her away so she could keep experiencing it. Daily. Hourly. Or every minute. Most women are clearly NOT me.

I could see in the smugness of Negan’s face that he assumed that he’d convinced me. I could tell from the swagger that he walked with, the whistling that he kept up, the very air around him that he honestly fucking believed that he won. I’d be running upstairs, packing my personal shit, and wave bye to my family to go play house with him in God knows where.

All I can say is that the world was full of disappointment and today was Negan’s turn to get a healthy dose. I took the basket of freshly washed clothes upstairs and put each of our clothes in our proper rooms, he hadn’t followed me, and I was fairly certain he was telling EVERYONE that I’d be ready to go soon. Or, fuck, I don’t know making all the arrangements for a “wedding”.

I stood at the same window I’d watched the pool game from the day before. What the fuck did Negan constitute as a wedding? For some reason my mind did not imagine anything like a wedding that I’d witnessed before the world went crazy. Instead of rice or birdseed, he’d probably just beat someone to death and think the brain matter was more festive.

A knock came to the door and I called out for the visitor to enter. It was Dad. Which was far better than if it had been my intended. “Callie?” His voice sounded unsure. “Sweetheart, are you alright?”

I turned to face him, smiling at the fact that he’d regained some of his former confidence. “I’m fine, Dad.” I glanced down at my blanket/bed. “Wish I still had my fucking bed, but fine.”

Dad’s hand rubbed his beard as he glanced down too. “Look, Callie, you definitely do not have to do anything you don’t want to, you know that right?” I nodded. “I NEVER would have even contemplated the deal with him if-”

“If I hadn’t shown at least some interest in him,” I finished for him. “I know, Dad. I’m just not entirely sure that being ‘interested’ is enough to want to go away with him.” I sat on the sill. “I won’t lie, there’s something about him, but I’m fairly sure there was something about Ted Bundy, too.” I shook my head. “And there’s the whole issue of his harem.” I grimaced. “Not entirely sure I want to be part of a collection, you know?”

Dad chuckled. “I know. And I also know that you’d do practically anything to keep all of us safe.” He leaned against the wall, seeing as the alternative was to sit where Carl had, and that just wasn’t Dad. “You don’t have to, no matter what it seemed like this morning. I WILL figure out another way, especially if you are opposed to it.”

I smiled at him and after a few more minutes of chatting, he left. Studying the clouds through my window, I giggled. Jesus, maybe Michonne was right, maybe I should make him beg.  
When I came downstairs, I noticed that no one seemed to be inside. Walking into the kitchen, I grabbed a glass and poured some cool water into it. I was about to take a sip while looking out the window when I felt the heat of him against my back. I nearly dropped the fucking glass.

“Could you put a fucking bell around your neck or something?” I asked, my grip on the glass tightening. “I already have a sore hand, it would really fucking suck to have glass shards rip into me.”

His laughter vibrated through me. “And whose fucking fault is that hand wound? I’m still trying to decide if you’re the fucking crazy one. Who goes around stabbing their own fucking hand with a fork?”

I turned and looked up at him. “I thought I’d died, figured pinching myself wouldn’t exactly work in the situation.” I shrugged and finally took a drink out of my glass. Ah, water, without the tart taste of faux lemons. I missed it.

He’d taken off his gloves, so the feel of his rough fingers against my cheek was something completely different from the laundry room. I closed my eyes at the touch, but opened them when I realized that he was watching my reaction carefully. “I wish I knew what was going on in that gorgeous head of yours,” he mused. “But a part of me thinks I don’t wanna know.”

I smirked. “I’m thinking that,” I turned from his touch and looked back out the window. “I need more time to decide.” His hands were sliding down my arms, finally settling at my hips, which he then pulled back so I was flush against him. “Even if you are trying your damnedest to tempt me to stop thinking.” His lips were brushing my ear, oh, the big guns. “It’s not going to work, Negan.” I said, even though there were parts of me that it was very clearly working on. “Having sex with you is well worth the cost of admission, but let’s be honest, that’s not the only thing I’ve got to use to make the choice about.”

I felt him huff out a sigh. He removed his mouth from where he’d been kissing the skin under my ear. Propping his chin on the top of my head, his arms wrapped around my waist. “I’d have to find the most irritating woman on the planet hot.” I grinned, not even trying to disagree. “A mouth like a fucking sailor, and a body like-” A groan told me his was reliving the laundry room, plus he was hard against me. Pretty obvious right there. “Come back with me, Callie, come back and I fucking swear we’ll figure it out. All of it.”

I chuckled at the mere thought of him thinking it was that simple. I let my hands cover his, and leaned back into his chest. It was nice, being held by him. Nice, and would totally look normal to someone ignorant of the history between us. Or rather between him and my dad. There was a part of me, that I was ignoring, that really wanted it. This. Him. Us.

But then there was the reality. I really wasn’t sure I wanted him, the Negan who ruled the Saviors. The Negan who could laugh as he cut open someone to make sure they had guts. The Negan who broke my dad. The Negan who decided that he was so fucking potent that he had to have multitude of women at his beck and call. I hated that for once, even with my continuous thoughts, that the ones I was having now were actually logical. Usually I’d run with what felt right, consequences be damned. So why the fuck was this so problematic? Probably, my brain chirped in, because this time I’d be doing it for the greater good. I’d be selfless, a martyr, an actual fucking savior. And what twenty-three year old wants that kind of fucking responsibility on her shoulders?

Negan left Alexandria without me. He didn’t like it, but he knew that he’d agreed to give me as much time to decide as I needed. Thank God for whichever member of my family put that little fine print in the treaty. He didn’t leave without making a scene though.

We walked him, and his entire fucking guard, to the gates. The same gates that he’d played Big Bad Wolf at the day we first met. He made some grating parting to Dad and the rest of our community, but before he’d crossed the gate, he yanked me to him and kissed the fucking breath from me. I swear, it was like he sucked the air out of the whole fucking world. No one made a sound, and then, when he pulled back, ignoring what I could only imagine was the entire fucking group staring at us-his and mine- he kissed my nose and whispered, “Soon, Callie.”

And then he turned and left. Left me standing there, completely stunned and surrounded by so many faces that looked shocked and inquisitive. No one more so than me. Soon? For what?

A week. One LONG fucking week.

I couldn’t fucking walk outside without SOMEONE asking me if I’d made up my mind. Was I going to go? Was I going to let them enjoy the peace they’d had before Negan and his people caught us in their cross-hairs? The peace they were enjoying NOW, with only the promise of a possible agreement? So I stopped going outside. Easy fix, right?

Inside my house was just as fucking strained, at least for me. Carl was watching me like I was a bomb about to detonate. To be fair, I felt that way too. Dad was giving me space, a little too much space. Michonne was strangely amused, which worried me for different reasons. And Daryl, well he looked at me like I was some kind of puzzle that he was working on deciphering. So all in all, Judith became my favorite human to hang out with. Judith didn’t judge. Judith didn’t worry or wonder. Judith just pooped her diaper and wanted diversions.

I was in her bedroom, playing peek-a-boo, when Carl walked in and announced that he was back. He, being Negan, of course. I rolled my eyes and grinned at a giggling Judith. Sure, he’d lasted a week, that was like a fucking lifetime for him. Mr. Take What I Want.

“Dad wants you to come downstairs, Callie.” Carl said, reaching for our little sister. The traitor actually reached up to him for him to take her. I’m telling you, even babies can be turds.

I rose to my feet and waited a beat after Carl took Judith out. I really fucking hoped he didn’t expect an answer. I had infinite time. I had eons to make my decision. Negan would be completely out of turn to expect me to jump when he snapped.

Taking the stairs slower than I’d tried to do the laundry, I was listening to see if I could gauge the attitude of our guest before I was face to face with him. It was eerily quiet. Well, shit, how the fuck do I prepare myself if I can’t fucking hear anything?

At the foot of them, I wasn’t shocked to find him waiting. The bat over his shoulder, leather jacket zipped up to his red scarf, and that fucking grin. Shit. “Ah, there she is.” He stepped forward and carefully leaned the bat against the staircase. “Miss me, darlin’?” He asked, leaning forward to rub his nose against mine. “Cause I sure as fuck missed you.”

I smirked up at him. “It’s barely been a week, Negan.” I answered, my voice a breath against his face. “What’s to miss?” I felt his hands snake along my waist, and then I was pulled tight against his body.

“You want a reminder?” And his lips met mine, and there it was, the burn. His teeth nipped at my full bottom lip and that gave him an opening to tease my tongue with his. My hands gripped the collar of his jacket and held him to me. Fuck, I thought, this was one hell of a reminder. I felt his hands slide down from my waist to cup my ass and lift me into his arms. Dear fucking God, was my family watching this?

I pulled away and looked over his shoulder. No one in sight. I felt him chuckle, clearly realizing where my mind went. “They’re not here, angel.” His lips were sliding along my jaw, and I felt the scruff that I’d barely noticed when I saw him. Stopped shaving again, I thought, and sighed at the feeling of it. When his lips found my neck, I nearly lost my mind. “You did miss me, didn’t you?” He smiled against my skin, feeling so very proven correct at the little sigh I gave as his teeth grazed my skin.

“I may have,” I moaned louder when he rocked into me, my legs locking around his waist. “I may have had a couple moments of- Shit.” He did it again and made me lose my place, closing my eyes and rolling my hips back. “Fuck, sure, I missed you.” I gave in. My mind was revolting against even trying to deny him.

He moved his head, pressing our foreheads together. “Come home with me, Callie.” I didn’t answer. “Come on, you know you want to.” He was trying to sound mocking, but somehow it came out as almost a plea. Almost. Not begging, not yet.

“Do I?” I asked, raising my eyebrow. “Why would I do that, when all I have to do is wait and poof-here you are?” I smiled at his glare. I noticed that even though he was glaring, he wasn’t putting me down.

“You drive me fucking crazy.” He growled, his lips claiming mine, hotter and far more hungry than before. I felt my back hit the wall beside the stairs, and hoped that he didn’t put a fucking dent in the drywall. “Fucking crazy.” He bit out, his lips returning slamming into mine again. He kissed me with such violence that I should have been scared, or pissed off, but instead I was smiling when he pulled back.

“Short drive, Negan, short drive.” I teased, reminding him of my assertions that he was certifiable already. “Kind of curious though,” I said, moving my lips along his whiskered jaw, nipping at the skin beneath his chin. “Why are you so fucking horny, if you have all those willing wives back home?” My tongue flicked out and teased his bobbing Adam’s apple. I took a page out of his book and sucked at his skin. Marking him, as he had me.

I felt him swallow under my mouth. No words came out of him so I kept exploring his neck with my mouth, pulling his scarf loose and opening it so I had more room to play. His fingers were digging into my skin so hard I was pretty sure I’d have bruises on my thighs. “Are those wives all looks and no substance, Negan?” I bit the side of his neck and felt him exhale long and slow. “Pretty without the ability to make you feel like THIS?” I rocked my hips and he hissed. “Cat got your tongue?” I teased, and that broke the spell. One hand came away from my thighs and clutched the back of my head, yanking me back and letting him crash his mouth on mine. I felt his tongue slip into my mouth and almost pulled away to announce I found it. Almost, but then I felt that hand on the back of my head lower, sliding under my shirt so his leather gloved hand was touching the bare skin of my back. Yep, leather glove kink, aisle one.

I moaned and I knew he counted that as a win. I flicked my own tongue against his, my hands moving to the jacket zipper that was tight against me. He knew what I wanted, so he moved enough so my hand could get between us. I didn’t hear the zipper sliding down and opening, his breathing and mine was so fucking loud. And then the jacket was gone. And we were t-shirt to t-shirt. And it was still too many fucking layers.

Before it could go any further, I heard a throat clear behind him. And then a chuckle. And then another clearing of a throat. I giggled against Negan’s mouth when I felt him growl at the interruption. His mouth released mine, and he was glaring again, but this time he wasn’t irritated with me. “Who the fuck?” His voice was as raw as it had been the other times we’d be in a similar position.

“Just wondering if everything was OK in here,” Dad’s voice answered, and I nearly laughed. Nearly, because a part of me wondered if Negan was going to hurt my dad for being the most effective cock block in the history of cock blocking. I looked over Negan’s shoulder and grinned at Dad. His eyes were twinkling, even if he was blushing like crazy.

To be honest, this wouldn’t be the first time my dad had caught me in the middle of something. It was one reason everyone in my fucking family learned to KNOCK before entering a room I was in with the door closed. Of course, sometimes I wasn’t in a room with a closed door, like today, in which case this would happen. Negan may be irritated, but to me, it was a normal date experience.

Negan let me slide down the wall out of his grip. But he didn’t let me move. There were probably a million reasons for that, but one very noticeable one was pressing into my stomach. Yep, Negan was a little too excited to face Dad just now. I saw him close his eyes, and wondered if he was thinking of baseball to get it under control. My eyes slid to the bat still leaning against the staircase. Maybe NOT baseball. That thought did it. I laughed, and his eyes snapped open and glared down at me. Shit. Now he actually looked dangerous.


	7. Pulling Out All the Stops...Did He REALLY Think That Would Work?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm still not convinced, but not for the reasons he seems to think. Then again, I didn't expect THAT to be one of the stops he tried to pull.

Seriously, I was locked in the terrifying gaze of Negan’s eyes and I was very, very curious as to how I’d NEVER really allowed myself to contemplate how fucking scary he could be. I must have made some sort of noise, or maybe I flinched, all I know is that I did SOMETHING without realizing it and it broke the fierceness of his attention on me. It did not, however, remove the rampant hard on that he was STILL sporting. Shit.

I felt the breath come back into my lungs, had I been holding my fucking breath? When he cupped my cheek, after he yanked the glove off his hand with his teeth, I found myself leaning into his touch. I should be biting him, a part of me screamed, anything to get away from him. The other part of me, the one that actually controlled my body, didn’t agree apparently. I felt his sigh, and his lips kissing my forehead. I felt his entire body begin to relax, and let out another long breath.

Rule Number 1: Laughing at Negan during sexy fun times is a NO NO. Huge no. Let’s not play with that version of fire, at least not yet.

He finally pulled away from me, and I realized that Dad had wandered off during the standoff. I found myself curious as to how long it had lasted. “Rick has the worst timing in the entire motherfucking world.” He leaned against the wall beside me, watching my profile. “Come back with me, Callie, and we’ll never be interrupted again.” He was laying the temptation on thick now.

I smirked. He truly didn’t know me. Really, truly had no fucking idea how bad my luck was at getting caught and being interrupted. Seriously. “And if we were interrupted, I’m sure someone would be punished for it.”

I closed my eyes, realizing that it was more true than I could have allowed myself to believe. The man beside me, so close I could still feel the heat pouring off of him, was exactly the type to kill or maim someone who got between him and his wants. I wondered if that included me, if I had the audacity to walk in on him and one of his other women? Would I be punished so severely that I’d wish I were dead? Or would he mark me, a more permanent reminder than a love bruise on my neck? I’d seen the man who had worn Daryl’s vest with his half ruined face. I heard from Carl’s story of his tour of Negan’s abode what made a face look like that.

“Callie,” it was a cross between a groan and a sigh. “I’m willing to give your people their freedom, or at least most of it. I’m willing to give them peace. For you. Hell, I gave back the redneck because your dad seems so attached.” I knew he was being honest, but to me, it just wasn’t enough of an incentive. “Do you want me to be completely fucking different? Want me to fucking give up my entire life for you? Cause you’re hot as shit, baby doll, but that’s a bridge too fucking far.”

I rolled my eyes, still not looking at him. I didn’t want him to change entirely. There were definitely some very attractive parts of him that I was becoming more than slightly accustomed to. Yet, there were a few things that I couldn’t live with being a part of. ONE huge one, actually. “If I wanted a man to bend completely to my will, I think I would have picked Spencer Monroe.” I huffed out a breath. “You know, the weak and trainable type?” I heard him give a snort. “I don’t want you to be COMPLETELY different, Negan. I just don’t want certain aspects of your lifestyle to be included in mine.” There, I thought, a rational argument for why I couldn’t just pack up and go.

I felt his fingers touch my neck, brushing the skin and feeling the goosebumps develop from his touch. “One part,” it wasn’t a question, so I figured he was coming to the right conclusion. “The others?” Or not, I realized when he ended that part with the question mark dangling.

I finally turned my head to look up at him. “The others.” I answered. “It’s probably not fair, in your mind, that I disagree with your current relationship status. Especially since I’m basically a bartering tool. But it does. And I can’t, no I won’t go there knowing that if I piss you off, or if I’m not in the mood, you’ve got a pack of skittles worth of others to divert you until I become more accommodating.” He was studying me, listening to what I was trying to say. “Look, I know how women act, especially if there’s one alpha male that is releasing ALL the pheromones in the fucking place. They can be more fucking hateful and spite filled than you, your little bat there, and all the guards you have running around like a biker version of the Secret Service.” Vicious, that’s what women like those he was collecting could be, or were, judging by the way he seemed to get exactly what I was saying. “I’d rather piss you off a million times by saying ‘no’ to going back with you, than have to put up with a bunch of possessive bitches who got there first.”

He chuckled, not without a hint of mirth, but also not as boisterous as when he found me funnier than usual. “I can’t deny that they are a handful.” He seemed to be recalling some of their less attractive moments. “They serve a purpose, Callie.” Seeing me roll my eyes at the purpose I imagined, he took my hand in his to get my attention refocused. “Not just fucking, Jesus woman. Most of them I offered to join me to get their men in line.” I noticed he said ‘most’ and not ‘all’ He clearly saw my glare forming. “Yes, the others propositioned me. I won’t deny it, it’s nice to have variety.” My glare was becoming more furious by the minute. “Hey, calm the fuck down. What I’m saying, and clearly fucking not getting through to you, is that not a single one of them is you. I didn’t give up a single fucking thing to get them. Not one. I may keep them in the lap of luxury, but that shit doesn’t really cost me a fucking thing. You, Callie? I’m willing to fucking give up all THIS.” He gestured around us, at the house we were standing in, and knew he meant the entire community. “For you. To take you back and get fucking lost in you.”

I considered what he was saying. I sort of understood. I still didn’t fucking like it. “I’m going to have to-”

“Take more fucking time.” He finished for me, running a frustrated hand down his face again. “Of course you are. It couldn’t possibly become fucking simple now could it?” I stared at him. He truly looked, was that, no. He looked tortured by it. Well, fuck, that’s a new power for me to add to the growing list. I could fucking torture Negan without laying a finger on him.

“You know,” I turned my entire body to him and gave him a small smile. “I’d fucking LOVE to be able to send you off with a bang, on my bed, upstairs.” I saw his dimples come out to play at the mere thought of it. “But some raging asshole with an ego the size of my house stole the bed, and the mattress. And not just mine, every fucking one’s.” Cold water, without a drop of rain, right over top of his fucking head and hope.

He groaned, and reached down for the bat. “I guess I’m gonna have to have a talk with that asshole.” He looked at the bat, almost lovingly, and I wondered if I’d start to feel jealous of a piece of fucking wood. “Lucille and I will go, I guess.”

Wait, did he name his fucking bat? “Lucille?” I choked out, trying desperately not to laugh. “The bat has a name?”

He smiled down at me. “Fuck yeah, she’s got a name.” He held ‘her’ out for my inspection. I was fucking thankful that she was clean, with no noticeable part of my family still showing. “Lucille, meet Callie. Callie, meet Lucille.” I glanced up at him, hoping he wasn’t so fucking crazy as to expect me to actually talk to the fucking thing. “My two dirty girls.” He winked and then whistling he left.

What the literal fuck? He had to be crazy. Had to be a fucking certifiable lunatic. And of course ,I, Callie Grimes, mistress of logic and reasoning, had to find him sexy as hell. Shaking my head, I wandered back upstairs, thinking about the latest meeting with Negan and what he’d told me. And tried, beyond reasonable doubt, to convince myself that going away with a man who thought women were bargaining chips to keep others in line and that a bat had a personality, was actually a good fucking idea.

How much time did it take for the Big Bad Wolf to come calling again? Two days. Seriously, I had to wonder if he drove back to home base, showered, changed his fucking clothes, and drove all the way back to Alexandria.

Judith and I were rocking on the porch when he approached this time. I nearly laughed at the absolute certainty that Judith would be a far more effective cock block than Dad had been. Especially since she’d be here from the first moment he locked eyes on me.

“That is a fuckin’ picture I want framed.” He greeted me, taking in me and my baby sister. “Fuck, you’re going to be an amazing mama, Callie.” A mother? Well that escalated quickly.

“I think you’re putting the cart way before the fucking horse there, Negan.” I answered, bouncing Judith as I rocked. “Unless you’re thinking of me and some other guy, YEARS from now.”

I saw his eyes squint at the mention of me and someone else, but then his smile was back, like he knew something I didn’t. “Actually, I’m pretty fucking certain that there’s already a chance that you’re possibly halfway, or already there, darlin’.” His dimples seemed to deepen at what I could only imagine was my confused expression. “Think about it, princess, think about it.”

What the fuck was he-shit. Fuck. Well, god-fucking-damn it. I huffed out a sigh as I heard his laughter. The boisterous one. That fucking asshole. Although, actually it had been both of us to absolutely fuck up. Shit.

“How do you know I’m not on any-” I started and his laughter grew. Dickhead.

“Callie, didn’t Carl tell you why he tried to fucking shoot us that first day?” His eyes were actually fucking twinkling at me in amusement. “Must have missed that story, huh? Your sweet baby brother was trying to stop us, me from taking your medical supply.” Shit, fuck, damn it. “Do you really think my fucking guys don’t know what birth control looks like? I mean, they may look stupid, but they’re not.”

“That doesn’t mean-” I considered which way to go with my statement. It doesn’t mean I didn’t have a secret stash of birth control. It doesn’t mean I don’t have an IUD that I got years earlier. It doesn’t mean that there’s the spawn of the spawn of Satan growing in me after one fucking time.

“It doesn’t mean that you’re not, either.” He offered. And I swear to fucking hell he looked like a cat that ate a fucking canary. “When you find out you are, I HAVE to be with you when you tell Rick. That’s a fucking given. I HAVE to see his face when he realizes his first fucking grand-baby is mine.’

I rolled my eyes. “You’re going to be disappointed.” I said, noticing that Judith was watching him with rapt attention. Dear lord, he was like her new favorite toy. “You’re just trying to confuse me with this bullshit, the odds are truly not in your favor.”

He held out his hands to Judith after carefully putting Lucille (did I honestly just use the bat’s name?) down against the banister. And my baby sister, like a true traitor nearly fucking jumped into his arms. He chuckled and kissed her soft hair. Then he took the rocker next to mine, almost like that second time he’d come to Alexandria. “I won’t lie,” his voice was careful, careful to keep Judith feeling warm and fuzzy toward him. “It’d fucking tickle my balls for you to be pregnant with my kid. Like really fucking tickle them. And not just to piss dear old Dad off.” I felt his stare as I was looking over the street in front of us. “You and me? Fuck, that kid would get started off fucking right.”

I couldn’t stop the laugh that had built. Jesus. My mouth and his, on a child. That poor kid. Or rather, anybody who had the misfortune to meet that fucking kid. “I think I’ve just been terrified out of ever wanting kids. With anyone.” I smiled at him and his grin held firm. “Dear God, just imagine that.”

“Oh, I have.” He kissed Judith on her tiny nose. “I fucking have.”


	8. Decisions Made...Oh Dear God...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK, so hammering out the details of what it would take for me to accept the deal that was negotiated between Negan and Dad should be simple. Should be. SHOULD be.

When the man you’re still trying to decide keeps popping up with more and more reasons, in his mind, for you to run away with him what do you do? I’m not sure what other people do, but me? I get more and more uncertain.

What if, like Judith and something new and shiny, Negan gets me back to the Sanctuary and suddenly he grows bored? What guarantee do I have that the chase isn’t what has his motor running at full throttle? And no, I don’t fucking care that there are no money back guarantees with relationships. I want more certainty, especially since, well the truth of it is I don’t trust his followers.

Somehow, I trust him and his bat naming insanity, far more than I do the roaches he surrounds himself with. I’ve noticed, while he visits, that some are very clearly loyal to him. Those people I may learn to trust, maybe. Then there are the others. Like the man who had taken Daryl’s clothes, bike, and crossbow. Do I really believe that a man punished with a hot iron to the face really calls it fair and square and suddenly becomes the perfect foot-soldier? No, no I don’t. And if I don’t trust him, then I know there are bound to be more just like him. Men and women who do what Negan says, strokes his enormous fucking ego, but behind his back where he can’t see? That’s where they plot.

I know that’s how people work. Hell, take a gander at Spencer and what happened to him. He wasn’t the first, and he won’t be the last that I encounter in this harsh new reality. The thought of dealing with a bunch of angry housewives, that would be sharing him with me-gag, and also the uncertainty of the disloyal was a hard pill to consider swallowing along with the fear that I was just the girl of the week.

The fourth visit was shorter than the last. I felt the sigh on his lips when he kissed me goodbye. And I wondered, if eventually he’d just fucking give up and never come back. I hate to admit it, but the thought of not seeing him again caused a flinch of pain run through my chest. A normal woman may have analyzed that reaction, but I’m fairly certain we all know how much of me is normal.

While I killed time between this visit and the next, I caught Daryl still studying me. Fuck it, I thought, approaching Dad’s best friend. Let’s see what the quiet one thinks about the entire fucking situation.

“Hey.” I offered, sitting down on the lawn beside where he was tinkering with his bike. “You gonna tell me if you’ve figured out that puzzle you seem to be working on?”

I heard him grunt, but his face was currently buried in the metal he was working on. I waited. Daryl took his fucking time on everything, sometimes even his words. A couple minutes passed, and then he finally spoke. “You gonna do it?” He didn’t look at me, focusing on some part of the bike that I couldn’t name. “You gonna go with him?”

As if I needed that clarification. “Not sure.” I answered, wondering what Daryl’s opinion on the situation was. “You had to stay there, I have a feeling it isn’t Club Med.”

He snorted. “Yeah, ya could fucking say that.” He finally looked up and through the curtain of his bangs I saw his eyes were focused on me. “Figure your accommodations are bound to be better than mine were.”

“Yeah, but I’d still be a prisoner wouldn’t I?” That was a near fear that had popped up. If I left with him, if I agreed, would I ever get to leave and visit my family again? Would I get to see Judith grow up? See Carl finally become the man he was teasing about becoming? And watch Dad and Michonne grow into their relationship? And the others? Enid, Maggie, Sasha, Rosita...These people were all my family. Leaving them and never seeing them again was terrifying.

He shook his head as the pain of the mere thought of never seeing anyone again rushed through me. “Don’t think so.” He tossed the tool he’d been using into the box at his feet. Moving to sit next to me, he glanced over at my profile. “He don’t treat ya like he treats ‘em.” The wives, so Daryl had seen or met them. “Hell, they don’t wanna be there with him, not really. Just like the perks.” I nearly snorted, considering the perks of Negan I fucking enjoyed. “Can’t make up your mind for ya, Callie, but he’s fucking different with ya. Didn’t think your dad and Michonne knew what the fuck they were talkin’ about, until that mornin’.”

I looked down at my hand, it still bore the marks of the fork tines. “Yeah, that morning was a real eye opener, huh?”

He chuckled. “Thought he was gonna fuckin’ blow a gasket when you stabbed that fork into your hand. Shit, that would have been a good video to have on repeat.” I giggled at Daryl’s amusement. “Callie, I watched him burn a guy’s face with a hot iron, and not flinch at the screams. You stab yourself with a fork and he nearly fucking died.”

I bit my lip, Daryl wasn’t telling me this because he wanted me to go. He may see the upside of me going, but in the end, he knew it was entirely up to me. And knowing Daryl, he’d be just as ok if peace didn’t come and he could kill every last Savior up to and including Negan. Which is why I took his words as they were offered.

I sat next to him, thinking about what he’d told me. Wisdom, I suppose, since he’d actually been inside with Negan. Adding it to what Carl had told me about his own visit there, I watched the scene before me without seeing it. Thinking about what I could negotiate with Negan to make the entire idea more livable. And then I sat back and waited until he popped up for another visit.

He waited longer this time. A little over two weeks had passed. Two weeks for me to hammer out the details for my own piece of the pie that would make the whole fucking arrangement worthwhile. To both of us. At least I hoped it would.

I wasn’t paying attention to the rest of the world, not closely. So I barely noticed that Michonne kept giving me weird side eye looks. Very weird side eye looks. Before Negan showed up, she finally cornered me. And that’s when I realized that the asshole may have fucking called it on his last visit.

“Callie, when’s the last time you-” Michonne began, then stopped, took a breath and started again. “I noticed when I took out the trash yesterday that there weren’t any-” And another stop, and I swear I could feel the heat of her embarrassment.

The trash, empty of something that seemed to bother Michonne. Fuck. I closed my eyes. Ever hear that thing about women who live together having their cycles sync? Well, in a weird twist of fate, Michonne and I synced before meeting. And she usually took care of the trash during that week, because honestly listening to Carl bitch and moan about bloody anything was annoying as shit. I swallowed hard.

“I haven’t.” I opened my eyes to hers. “Not this month.” Then I shook it off. No fucking way. It was too soon, for one. And I doubted highly that I would know this early. Not fucking possible. “Stress.” I let out a swoosh of air in happiness and hope. “Has to be the stress of deciding. That totally throws off a period.” I nodded, convincing myself and hopefully Michonne.

“Are you sure?” She asked, watching my face so carefully that I swore she memorized all my fucking tells. “It only takes one time, you know.”

I nodded. I knew that. Every woman over the age of ten should know that. I also knew that there was no fucking way that God could possibly make that huge of a joke out of my situation. Nope, not fucking possible. “Of course I know that. It wasn’t long enough ago, Mich. I mean, what three weeks? Too fucking early to even think about that.”

I heard her clearing her throat, almost fighting a laugh. I looked at her and she smiled. “Actually, that’s precisely how long it may take to be sure.”

I felt my back press against the wall behind me. My head knocked against it as I smacked it back. No, that couldn’t be fucking right. I couldn’t possibly be. No. I refused to accept the idea of it. I shook my head and finally her laughter broke. I couldn’t even focus enough to glare at her. My stomach felt twisted with nerves. Fuck. Shit.

A few days later, there he was. Whistling up the steps to the front door of our house. I was sitting in the living room. Dad and Michonne were out on a run, hoping that they could find some kind of mattresses. Carl and Judith were playing upstairs and I was on the couch, trying without success to read a book. My mind was still whirling with the idea that I could possibly have a baby inside me. I heard the knock, and the whistling and nearly hid. Not now. Damn it. Not now.

He opened the front door, because of course he would, and strutted inside. Finding me on the couch, I heard him groan. “Damn, is it just me or do you get fucking hotter every goddamn time I see you?” The couch dipped as he sat down beside me. His hands, glove free, took the book from me and sat it on the table in front of me. “Gonna say hello to me, princess?”

I looked up at him and bit my lip. “Hey.” It was a weak greeting, even by most weak standards.

“Something wrong?” His brow was furrowed, looking at me with worry and a hint of fear. Of course he was thinking I was turning him and this asinine idea down.

I swallowed, my mouth felt like the fucking Sahara. “No, nothing’s wrong.” Except you may have fucking predicted the immediate future you weird fucking asshole. “I suppose you’re here to remind me of all the amazing reasons I should be upstairs packing so I can run off and join your harem?” My voice sounded off even to me. And he clearly noticed it.

“Callie, what the fuck is wrong?” His hands cupped my face, staring into my eyes with such intensity I wondered if he was trying to delve into my thoughts. “Tell me.”

I sighed. Fuck it. Why not? “Apparently,” I swallowed again, and realized I needed a drink. I stood up and he followed me to the kitchen where I got a glass of water. Drinking it, all of it, I finally continued. “Apparently, I’m late.” I felt the blush burn my face. Dear God, let the floor swallow me now.

“Late?” He stood back and studied me. “You’re late.” A nod and then that fucking smile. And the fucking dimples. “Shit. That’s either the funniest and best fucking news I’ve had in my fucking life, or the most fucking terrifying.” Ah, that’s why he wasn’t barking with glee. “A baby?” He moved closer, and cupped my chin in his hand to tilt my head up to look at him. “Our baby?”

“I haven’t confirmed it.” I said, sighing. “I haven’t really accepted the possibility.” I could see the hurt in his face. “We haven’t really come to terms with our situation, Negan. Adding a baby to the mix doesn’t exactly make it easier.” I felt his thumb grazing my lips. “I was actually hoping to sit down with you and talk about my stipulations, and then this.” I moved my face from his hands and glared at my flat stomach. Traitor body.

“Then let’s fucking hammer out the details, Callie. Any fucking thing to get you home with me.” He sat down at the dining room table and motioned for me to take a seat. “Tell me what you want. Let’s fucking negotiate.”

I rolled my eyes, clearly my default reaction to Negan. I sat down and reminded him that I could very well NOT be pregnant. So he shouldn’t let the possibility of a baby cloud our talk. He nodded his understanding and I began.

It took around an hour for me to explain my wants, and especially my needs if I agreed to be with him. He listened, only asking a few questions to clarify things before letting me go on. Then it got down to the nitty gritty.

“OK.” He said, grinning at Carl when he came down with Judith for lunch. He watched as my brother threw together something to take back upstairs, waiting until they’d gone before continuing our discussion. “You want monogamy, visits with your family, and to get to choose the Saviors that guard you?” I nodded, figuring two out of three might be agreeable to him. “Done.” I felt my eyes go fucking wide. “What?” He asked, feigning an innocence he probably had never possessed. “I thought about what you’d said about the others, why do you fucking think I was gone so fucking long?” Huh, well look at that. “I thought about it, and I discussed it with-” He stopped and flashed me a look. “Well, I got a little feedback from some people. They’ll be put back where they came from, be it their former men or wherever the fuck they crawled to me from.” I was reeling. It couldn’t really be this simple. Could it? “Besides, Callie, I fucking hate being there without you. It feels weird to be here with you, but if that had been a fucking stipulation, then I’d probably have figured out a fucking way to relocate my base here.”

I sat back in my chair. Fuck me. What the hell do women actually do with this type of power of men? Because honestly? I was fucking stumped. “So, I get everything?” I was so fucking confused that I almost started looking for that fucking fork again. “That I asked for, I mean.”

“You didn’t really ask for much.” He shrugged, looking supremely unconcerned. “No side pieces, easy, fuck the way we go together I don’t need other variety.” He smiled at me and I felt my heart lurch. “Visits with the family? Simple, I can’t fucking wait to see Rick’s face when you tell him about MY fucking bun inside your hot fucking oven.” I fought rolling my eyes at his certainty of my possible pregnancy and at his childish need to irritate Dad even now. “And as for choosing your own guards, fuck that’s the simplest. I won’t have you surrounded by any fucking one you don’t feel comfortable with. Period, done, finished.” He sat back looking pleased as fucking punch. “How long is packing gonna take?”

I laughed at him. Long and hard. Shit. “Dad and Michonne aren’t here. I can’t go until they get back, Negan. Even with visits, I want to say goodbye.” He huffed an annoyed sigh. “You know, you wouldn’t find it so unbearable here if you could spend the night in my bedroom, on an actual fucking bed.” He shot me a look. “Your fault, not mine, buddy.” I held my hands up, reminding him that in this instance, at least, I was the innocent party.

“How fucking long is Daddy going to fucking be away?” He was pouting, I fucking swear, he was pouting.

“No fucking idea.” I answered honestly. Runs were planned, of course, but who fucking really knew. Shit goes bad constantly. I stood up and walked to his seat. He pushed the chair back automatically and I sat down. “I could always keep you company until he gets back.” I offered into his jacket and I felt his entire body go stiff. “You know, out of the kindness of m-” I never finished my sentence, but that didn’t mean that I never finished.


	9. Becoming Brain Dead THIS Way Is NOT the Same as Others

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keeping Negan occupied while Dad's away was becoming one of my favorite hobbies. What the hell would I do when we didn't have Dad's absence as an excuse?

I would totally regale the whole world, except Dad, Carl, Michonne, and Judith with just how I kept Negan company while we waited on Dad and Michonne to come back. I really would, but, honestly, I think there were moments when he actually managed to short circuit my brain. Truly I may have fucking blacked out. And that sucks, because the parts that I didn’t go fucking brain dead in were unbelievably earth shattering.

Before someone gets the wrong idea, we did NOT do it on the dining room table. My little brother was upstairs with my baby sister. Plus, we weren’t entirely sure when Dad would come home and I felt we had scarred him enough for one lifetime. So we scuttled off to Spencer’s former house. What? It’s not like it was being used.

Empty house, completely empty house, I might add, even if I pushed out of my damn head why it was empty. And Negan. And me. And holy shitcakes, I truly wished for a way to visually document the time we spent there. Not only to refresh the parts of my brain that shut down during part of it, but honest to God, what we did to one another would have to classify as fucking art. Pornographic art, yes, but art nonetheless.

By the time we resurfaced, it was full dark outside. Pitch black and I wasn’t entirely sure I could move. Or if he could, for that matter.

“Fuck, baby girl,” his voice was hoarse from screaming and moaning, and well, you get the picture. He was still catching his breath, body slick with sweat, and his perfectly coiffed hair was no longer perfect. “I think you’re trying to fucking kill me.” He was still hovering over me, so I highly doubted he was on the verge of meeting his maker. I mean, Satan couldn’t possibly be ready to call him home. He was no doubt scared that Negan would take over his fucking domain.

I grinned up at him, pretty fucking sure that I no longer had functional use of my legs. “Me? Kill you?” I giggled, breathless myself, and yes, my voice was as hoarse as his. “I’m pretty fucking sure that I can no longer walk, you asshole.” I felt his hand slide up my leg and was pleased that I still had some fucking feelng. “Jesus, we’re probably not going to survive this.” My hand was stroking his chest, smoothing the chest hair that covered him. “But, I have to say, of all the fucking ways to die in this shitty world, what a fucking way to go.”

He laughed and kissed me. Luckily for both of us, I think we were far too exhausted to even attempt another go. “It’s nighttime.” He seemed as shocked by that realization as I was. His eyes landed on the window and I turned to see the darkness too. “We spent fucking hours in here. Hours and hours, and I swear to God, I haven’t even gotten to the best parts.”

It was my turn to laugh. “The best parts? Fuck, if we haven’t even gotten there yet, then I have to say, we might have to wait awhile.” His eyebrow raised in question. “If I have a baby Negan in here,” I touched my flat stomach, “then he should have a fighting chance, before his daddy makes his mommy catch fire.”

He smiled, those dimples that I was growing more in love with peeking at me. “He?” He asked, laying back on a well cushioned floor beside me and pulling me to lay on top of his chest. “You want a boy, princess?”

I listened to his heart beating under my ear. I thought about what he was asking. I still wasn’t entirely sure I was ready for a baby, let alone his baby, but he’d asked a question and it may actually be something we had to think about. “Not entirely sure,” I answered, cuddling into his bare skin. “I kind of figured that you’re such a fucking alpha male that there was no fucking way a female would come from your balls.” I shrugged at his chuckle.

“You’re forgetting a pretty fucking potent component in that potential bun’s creation, aren’t you?” His lips brushed the top of my head. “You may think I’m a fucking alpha, but you’re not exactly a fucking shrinking violet, baby.” I smirked against his chest. “That red hair, that fucking mouth of yours? Yeah, I’m going to bet our first, whether now or later, is a girl. I haven’t got a fucking prayer for a boy.”

I grinned and propped my chin on his chest to look up at him. I was honestly trying to decide when I had gone from being confused about being with him, to guessing the sex of our potential children. This man, this being beneath me, when had I fallen all the way in the deep end. When had I completely forgotten what our being together would mean for every other person and just focused on US? Had I really only known him for three weeks? How is that fucking possible?

“Ut oh,” he grinned down at me. “Looks like you’re thinking again.”

I smirked. “Does a woman with a brain scare you so much, Negan?” I waited as his hand came down to cup my face. “Because I gotta say, aside from when you fuck me brainless, I tend to have a hell of a lot of thoughts running around in my belfry.”

He chuckled, and it vibrated through my chin. “Haven’t you heard? I’m fucking Negan, I’m not scared of anything.”

I raised up and slid fully on top of him. “Actually, I think you’ll find that I’M fucking Negan. You’re just Negan, unless you have to take matters in your own hands, then YOU’RE fucking Negan.” I kissed him and his laughter pushed through my lips.

Neither of us wanted to move, but between the call of nature, and our stomachs, we had to. Dressing, while kissing and touching, took far longer than it should have, but then we left the former Monroe home. Walking hand in hand back to my family’s house, I nearly laughed at how fucking normal it looked. The two of us, hand holding and walking back like we’d just been on a date.

Inside, I could tell that Dad and Michonne weren’t back just yet. I also noticed that Carl had made something for dinner. Something gross, or at least messy as fuck. Shaking my head, I started to clean up the kitchen, while Negan searched through the cabinets and fridge for ingredients to make something for us to eat.

I washed the dishes while he cooked. Oddly domestic scenes considering. And I asked questions, about what I was headed to, living with him.

“The Sanctuary?” I started, and he grunted to tell me to continue. “What’s it like? I mean, do you get to cook there?”

He chuckled and bumped my hip with his as he reached to grab something from beside me. “I get to do anything I damn well please there, darlin’. I run the fucking place.”

I rolled my eyes and kept cleaning dishes. “You know precisely what I mean, dick. Do you take time to cook? You seem to enjoy it.”

I felt his hands wrap around my waist and his face bury in my neck. “I love to cook, but no, I don’t do it there much. I can’t fucking remember the last time I did, before I made pasta here.” That seemed to shock him, his hands stilled around me and he just breathed the scent of my skin in.

I nodded, wiping the suds away from the lip of the sink. “Pity, I liked the sauce.” He kissed my neck and groaned, moving back to finish our dinner. “What are you making?”

“What I could find.” He said, as I heard the hiss of food cooking. “I promise it’s edible, hell it might even be tasty.”

My stomach rumbled, clearly enjoying the scent of the food. “I’m pretty damn sure I’m so hungry I would have eaten whatever the fuck it was that Carl tried to create.” I stared at the pot I was washing, trying to figure out what the hell my baby brother had made. “Although, the look of it isn’t very appetizing.”

Negan laughed behind me. I finished the dishes as he filled our plates. I’m still not sure what I ate, but it was amazingly tasty. And I wondered if any of his people knew this side of him. “Do they know you’re a skilled chef?” I asked, finishing my meal.

He chewed his food in thought, clearly trying to recall if any of them had ever seen him cook. “I don’t think so.” He shrugged and finished his own food. “Doesn’t really fucking matter, does it?”

I smiled at him as I stood to collect our plates. “Sure it does. I get to experience this, and none of them do.” I was feeling pretty fucking special as I put the plates in the still soapy water. He had followed me and pressed himself tight against my back. “Not sure you distracting me while I’m washing the dishes is the smartest idea.”

His face found its former place at my neck, and I felt him grin. “Just don’t fucking stab yourself with any utensils, you’re awake, I promise.” His tongue flicked against my skin and I closed my eyes. Honest to fucking God, how could he even consider sex again. Not that my body wasn’t responding, but we’d been tangled up together for HOURS. His hands found my hips and pulled me against him. Oh, he wasn’t just considering it, he was fucking ready for it. AGAIN.

I moaned, and gulped for air. And tried like hell to focus on the few dishes that were left. But he played dirty. Rocking his hips into mine, as one hand roamed down my chest and stomach to my waist. Fuck. His fingers dipped under my waistband and I wasn’t entirely sure when my hands got soapy and wet. Then his thumb found my wet folds and I may have forgotten my own fucking name.

“Callie,” he growled against my neck. Oh, right, that’s me. I was rocking against his thumb, and back against his hardness. For fuck’s sake, what was I doing again.

I vaguely heard a door open. And I thought I might have heard footsteps. Possibly. And then I definitely heard laughter. Looking up from the sink, there stood Michonne and my dad. Shit.

Negan felt me still and he looked up from where he was nibbling on my neck. I felt his curse against my skin and fought HARD to hold back the laughter that was bubbling up in my throat. RULE NUMBER 1! “Fuck,” there it was again. And there was no fucking way he could move away from me. Of course there was also no way to hide the fact that his hand was down my pants either. “Welcome home, Rick!” He said, moving his face from my neck.

One day soon, I was going to have to explain to Negan my track record for this type of thing. I was fairly certain he was thinking Dad did this shit on purpose. He didn’t, trust me. Dad would rather have burned his own fucking eyeballs out of his skull than witness some of my most intimate moments. After a while though, he started to just somewhat shrug it off and remind me of the more appropriate places to do the things he caught me and my dates doing. Hence the knocking rule.

After Michonne and Dad greeted us and ran upstairs to “freshen up”, Michonne’s laughter echoing behind her, Negan finally extracted himself from me. “Jesus,” he rubbed a hand down his face. “He has the WORST fucking timing.”

I giggled, now that the danger was past. “No, I just have the worst fucking track record for starting shit like this in the wrong places.” He shot me a look. “You are so not the first guy to get caught with his hand in my cookie jar.” He was glaring now. Shit. “You had to know I wasn’t a fucking virgin, Negan.” I shook my head and finished the dishes.

“Yeah, but-” he stopped and I waited. “This happened a lot?” Safer ground, I thought, he’d gone with safer grounds.

“More than I’d care to relive.” I dried the dishes we’d used, and turned to face him. “Look, something you may want to know about me is that I don’t always think the entire picture through when I’m-”

“Horny?” He offered and I nodded. “Are you an exhibitionist, baby girl?” He looked far more interested now. Interested and fucking happy.

I shook my head. “No purposely. I just, you know, don’t consider the consequences of where I decide to follow through.” I thought about that explanation. It would probably suffice for some of the places I’d been caught. Although, some might not fit in that category.

“Like where?” Shit, not now. We didn’t have time to go through my fucking list of ‘oops that might have been a bad idea.’

“Later,” I answered, hearing footfalls on the stairs. “I promise,” he looked like he wanted to argue the point.

Dad and Michonne weren’t all that shocked that I’d made the decision to go with Negan. They were a bit surprised that Negan had conceded even more to me than they’d considered when the “treaty” was discussed. Clearly they thought he cared about me, but giving up his sister wives? That wasn’t something they really thought possible.

Dad was extremely happy that Negan promised that I could visit. Even if it wasn’t too often, knowing that I’d be able to come and see them and my siblings made it a little more bearable for him. I was glad, since he looked like he was coming back to his old self.

I could FEEL Negan bursting to tell him about the possibility of a baby Negan. Squeezing his knee so hard I heard him hiss out a breath, I stopped that from happening. IF I was pregnant, he could tell him. IF. Not before, not without confirmation. NOT NOW.

I couldn’t stop him from giving the innuendos of a future baby. And I was very close to pinching his fucking thigh to make that shit stop too.

Dad and Michonne only went to bed when we promised that I wouldn’t be leaving until the next day. I had goodbyes to say, and I wasn’t about to be rushed. No matter how fucking intimidating Negan might be. After they disappeared upstairs, he pulled me over top of him on the couch. My head was cradled on his chest and the lights were out, and I had the startling realization that this would be the first time we slept together.  
“I can fucking hear the gears turning in your head, princess.” He whispered, his hands holding me to him. “It’s too fucking late for complicated thoughts.”

I chuckled and snuggled into his arms. “It wasn’t complicated, Negan. I just realized, this is the first night we’re sleeping together, like actually sleeping.”

His lips brushed my head. “Second thoughts?” He asked, and I knew from his tone that he was worried. I shook my head.

“Nope.” I let my ear cover his heart, lulling myself toward sleep with the soothing sound of his beating heart. “You?” I asked, scared myself at the question.

“Not a fucking single one.” He answered, sounding like sleep was pulling him under too.

And that’s how I spent the first full night with the Big Bad Wolf. Cuddling and thinking that perhaps it would be all fucking worth it.


	10. Mornings.. Why?  Why?  And WHY am I on the fucking floor again?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our first morning together. It would have been a pretty awesome experience. If I didn't hate fucking mornings. And if I hadn't woke up on the fucking floor...AGAIN.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JDMsNegan, 
> 
> This is entirely your fault. And honestly, I cannot fucking thank you ENOUGH. 
> 
> EVERYONE else: Offer your own thanks to JDMsNegan for the brainchild she birthed with a single comment on the last chapter. Seriously, props must be given. In abundance. 
> 
> Also, I hope everyone is enjoying the fuck out of this story. I have a shit ton of fun writing Callie because she's honestly the most like me of ALL of my OFCs. I want to clarify that this story is AU, clearly, and that certain Negan truths aren't going to work here. And warn everyone that just because sex is AMAZING and you hold a man in the very palm of your hand, relationships have hiccups. They have bumps and wrecks, but hopefully they're worth it. 
> 
> Hang on, it's going to be a fun ride. I hope.

I wish I could say that waking up with Negan made me more of a morning person. I would say it, but then I’d be a fucking liar. I’m sure there are questions about why waking up with a certified sex master didn’t improve my lack of appreciation for mornings, and I’m gonna answer it simply.

I didn’t wake up with Negan. I woke up on the fucking floor. A floor, I might add, that I woke up on because he actually tossed me onto it, and proceeded to curl up on the couch, alone and snore right in my fucking direction. Yeah, that’s all rainbows and butterflies, isn’t it. Fucking bed hog. And the snores, my God the snores. And the smug dream face that graced him, all because he had the entire, comfortable couch to himself.

I’d like to say that I centered my anger and took a breath. I’d like to say that I was distracted when he smiled in his sleep, through sounds like a cross between a sputtering motor and a chainsaw, and those fucking dimples appeared. I’d like to say that I stood up dignified, brushed the entire ordeal off, and went and did something productive like starting our breakfast.

I won’t say any of the above. I’m not a fucking liar. I own the fact that I hate mornings like Garfield hates Mondays (yes, I remember comics and cartoons, the apocalypse didn’t remove my memory bank). I own the fact that when confronted with something asinine upon waking so abruptly in the glare of sunshine that offends my very marrow I will torch the culprit for that waking without a moment’s hesitation. And I am fucking proud of the fact that falling in love with Negan didn’t stop me from going for his fucking head when he did it to me, on the first fucking morning of the rest of our relationship.

I slapped him. Hard. Right in the back of his head, which I could reach because he was curled up like a sleeping baby. And let me tell you, not only was it satisfying, but it woke his ass up just as fast as I had been.

“What the literal hell?” He growled, coming to consciousness immediately. I felt pretty fucking smug that Lucille had been moved out of reach by my tossed ass, so he couldn’t grab it. And trust me, the first instinct for Negan was to reach for the damn bat. “Callie, why the fuck did you just hit me?” He was trying to get into seated position, but our couch was fucking comfortable and given half a chance would eat unsuspecting guests. Oops, for him, I suppose. “And why the FUCK can’t I get up from this fucking couch?”

I laughed. Fuck rules, and clearly this was NOT a RULE 1 situation. I reached out my hands, and after a moment’s consideration, he took them. Helping him into a more dignified arrangement, I let him in on my irritation. “You fucking tossed me like a football onto the HARD floor, you asshole.” I tried to glare, but seeing his reaction to his own alarm clock, I was starting to find humor in the world again. “And then you rolled over and fucking snored and grinned in your sleep. You, Negan, are a fucking bed hog.” I sat down on his lap when he leaned back against the couch cushions. “I hate mornings,” I glared at the sun streaming through the windows. “But I REALLY hate meeting the floor so hard and so unexpectedly. IN THE MORNING. That I hate.”

He was mostly over his own unscheduled wake up call. Mostly, although I was fairly certain I’d be paying for it soon. “I don’t snore.” Kissing my cheek, he nuzzled against my neck. “For future reference, when we get home, I can hog the bed as much as I want and you won’t hit the fucking floor. I have a HUGE fucking bed, princess.” His voice was a different kind of growl and I could feel how truly ready he was for that bed. And me. “When can we leave?”

I shook my head at him. Seriously? We JUST woke up and he was go go go. I was still, why do mornings have to be a thing? Like the world is a shit show, why can’t the day start in the afternoon?

I leaned against his chest. “I have to pack and I do have to say goodbye, Negan.” I felt a grin like the Grinch wore before he stole Christmas. “Although, I can make it worthwhile to you, at least for a bit.”

His hands gripped my waist a little harder and my smile grew wider. “What do you have in mind, baby girl?”

I let my lips find the soft skin of his earlobe and whispered one word. “Shower.”

I swear that word had barely passed my lips and I was over his damn shoulder and up the stairs we went. I didn’t feel him pick up the other woman in his life, but when he sat me down outside the bathroom I shared with my brother, I noticed her in his other hand. I didn’t roll my eyes, but it was a close one. Holding a finger to my lips, I had him follow me into my bedroom, which needed a name change what without the fucking bed and all. I grabbed a set of clothes and turned around.

Negan’s face was focused on the blankets on the floor that I’d been forced to use due to his pettiness during the first visit. He was glaring at the blankets like they offended him and I nearly warned him against stealing those too. Nearly, because he shocked the ever loving shit out of me.

“Fuck, I have to tell Dwight that a run for mattresses and beds needs done NOW.” He looked up and noticed me watching him. “Callie, I can be pretty fucking brutal, but this might have been a step too far. Gonna right it, I swear.” My eyes went wide. Negan was going to replace my community's beds. For me. Well, shit.

I stepped over the covers and let him pull me into his arms. “You thought you had to, and I am TRYING to understand your methods and reasons. Trying to, but I’m not completely there.” My cheek had found his heartbeat like it was a magnetic pull. “Let’s go shower, so I can’t at least get rid of my CURRENT bruises, from the fucking living room floor.”

I felt his chuckle through my face. “Is this how you’re going to try to fix anything that pisses me off, Callie?” He asked, his arms wrapped around me and his chin on my head. “Because, I have to admit, it’s pretty fucking effective.”

I giggled and pulled away. “I haven’t even gotten to the good stuff, Negan. Shit, you’re pretty fucking simple to distract.” Winking, I rushed from the room before he could take a swipe at my ass with either his hand, or Lucille.

The shower. Dear Fucking Hell, the shower. While our water could get warm and pretty luxurious, I am more than certain that the steam in the bathroom had little to do with water temperature. Maybe, just maybe, getting into a relationship with Satan’s offspring had some fucking perks. Perk one: sexual appetite that more than held steady with my own. Perk two: appreciation for my abundance of sentence enhancers (it’s what ladies call the word “fuck” and other words that make the mundanes blush). Perk three: I’ll never freeze to death near this man. Seriously. HOT. And not just his fucking looks.

We dried off, or hell, I don’t know maybe his real daddy just blew the dry heat from hell over us and we were suddenly dry, it’s a blur. And then we dressed. He was whistling and carrying Lucille in one hand while holding my hand with the other. I was just considering whether we could eat first, then pack my shit, when I was saved from making the decision by him pulling me back into my room. Packing it was.

It didn’t take long. The only thing that I took the time to actually add to my wardrobe was a chain that I hadn’t worn since we arrived in Alexandria and had a proper home, with proper places for our stuff. The chain was simple, but what it held was extremely important to me. My mother’s wedding rings. She’d given them to me before Judith’s birth and her death, and she’d told me that if anything happened to her she expected me to keep them and wear them when I found the person I looked at like she once looked at Dad.

I hadn’t noticed him watching me, but when everything was packed (a duffel bag full, I’m such a pack-rat at the world’s end, I tell you), I saw his eyes on the rings resting just above my cleavage. His hand reached out, and I stood still. When his fingers brushed the rings, he raised his head with an eyebrow raised.

“They were Mom’s.” I answered, diverting my attention to the bag. I zipped it up and went to toss it over my shoulder, but he stopped me. Taking it from my hands and putting it over his own.

We went downstairs, but I couldn’t quite figure out what the look was that I saw on his face when he was staring at those rings.

Goodbyes are hard. Especially when the dead walk around and bite people. Luckily, my goodbye was hard simply because I was leaving my family behind for something I hoped was better. You know, instead of biting a bullet before I bit someone.

Carl hugged me and whispered that all I had to do was send him a sign of some sort that I didn’t want this, or that I wanted out later, and he’d find a way to get me home. I shivered internally at the mere thought of my baby brother trying to take on Negan for my honor, or worse that he’d hurt him. Losing either of them would kill me, but losing either of them at the hand of the other would break me into a thousand pieces and in ripping me apart, death would be a blessing.

Michonne was trying desperately not to shoot looks at my still very flat abdomen while we said goodbye. Dear Lord, between her and Negan, I was going to go insane at the mere thought of babies. I hugged her and smiled at the strength I always felt in her arms. Warrior woman, surrogate step-mother, and badass human being. I felt confident she would keep my family safe and loved in my absence.

Judith, of course, didn’t understand. But hugging her baby scented person to me, I felt a tug in my heart that I’d never really felt before. I’d miss her, miss all of the care that I took in taking care of her, and yet, I wondered what it would feel like to start from scratch with my very own baby. Kissing her soft curls, I told her that I’d see her soon.

Saying goodbye, or see you later, to Dad was the hardest. I’d been the first child he held immediately after birth. He once told me that he never thought he could love anything more than he loved my mom, but when he held me he knew he was wrong. Holding him and saying goodbye, I felt him trying so desperately to remind me of that love. Tears burned my eyes, but I didn’t want him or any of them to imagine that I wasn’t happy with my choice so I forced them to stay at bay. This would have been inevitable in the old world. Me leaving home to be with the man I loved, that would have been expected at some point in my adulthood. Here, in this reality, it was a little bit different. The entire experience was shifted, but I wanted him to understand that regardless of how it happened, it did, and I was happy about it.

“This isn’t just for Alexandria, Dad.” I whispered in his neck. I felt him nod, and went on. “I fell in love with him, somehow or someway, and I would have probably ended up here at some point. This way, this way no one suffers because of it. This way it actually helps.” I pulled away and he kissed my forehead. “I love you, Daddy.”

“Love you too, my little girl.” Dad’s rough fingers brushed an errant tear from the corner of my eye. “And as much as I may not LOVE the fact that he’s your choice, I trust you to do what’s right. For you, not for us.”

I grinned, hugging him again. “I am. I promise.”

Negan, showing himself to be a benevolent former leader (look to be honest, I didn’t really learn what the full extent of Dad and Negan’s deal with my arranged relationship treaty entailed, so sue me), decided to address the community and let them know that I’d be sacrificing myself for their comfort. I nearly burst out laughing at him making it seem like I was being sold off to him for their peace and sanity. Jesus, the man has a God complex that would make God Himself blush. After assuring them I’d have regular visits to prove my safety and well-being (starting to feel like a fucking hostage, dumb ass), we finally (Thank GOD, no more speeches, please) got in the vehicle caravan and started off to my new life.

Negan and I rode in a truck alone. We were flanked front and back by his Savior Secret Service. The SSS, shit one extra letter than the SS. Seriously, I wished that the internet was still accessible, because I had MANY questions that might be answered on Ancestry.com about the man driving me home. Pretty sure that his family tree was twisted and had some pretty fucking dangerous terrors dangling from the limbs. Then again, if you do a genealogical search, is Satan’s DNA even available for testing? And what books could be used to trace that lineage?

I let my mind wander at first, clearly on the man beside me and what was to come. Would I really love being with him so much that I wouldn’t miss my family like a missing limb? Would I regret my decision? Would he?


	11. On the Road...With Negan, and a Raging Case of Boredom...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're off to the Sanctuary. One word that brings more entertainment to my life than I expected. One word...Kneel

We’d barely left Alexandria when it became boring to sit quietly with my own thoughts. I wanted, nay, I needed entertainment. And who better to provide it than Negan?

“How long are we going to be in this truck?” I asked first. I wanted a better timeline for the amount of entertainment I would be requesting.

“Depends,” he kept his eyes on the road, a rarity for the daughter of one Rick Grimes. “If we don’t run into a shit ton of bullshit, then hours, if we do-”

He left it hanging, allowing me to fill in the blanks. And I understood. So much in the new crapshoot of our reality was based on “if we don’t run into X then Y”. It gave me what I needed, a gauge of sorts for what kind of entertainment I’d like. Let’s just ease into it.

“Tell me more about what to expect when we get there?” I loved the sound of his voice, so anything to keep him talking. Hell, if we were sitting somewhere with a phonebook, I’d toss it to him and challenge myself to keep my hands to myself for as long as he could read through it. I doubt I’d make it until he was out of the “As”, but I’d do my damndest to try.

Negan, who also loved the sound of his own voice, told me about the Sanctuary. That it was more industrial looking and feeling than Alexandria, taking me back to the time we spent in the prison early on in our journey forward. He told me that his people, those who worked in the Sanctuary and outposts, were not all called Saviors. Just as I suspected, the Savior Secret Service were the elite. And then he told me something that brought me up completely short.

“When we walk in, they’ll all kneel.” He said it like he’d say, ‘when we have to pee, we use the bathroom.’ As though it were perfectly fucking normal for people to just get on their knees around him. Fuck.

“Kneel?” I asked, looking at his profile. He smiled, clearly enjoying the uncertainty of my tone. “You mean, like kneeling, like you’re some kind of-” I stopped, remembering what Carl had told me about that night with Glenn and Abe. And he may have mentioned it about his little self imposed field trip. I swallowed my distaste. This was something I’d agreed with doing. Being with him. Warts and regale aspirations all.

I felt his gloved hand touch mine. Somehow I’d completely gone still and silent, and his face wasn’t my focus any longer. That touch brought me back. “Hey,” his voice was low, like when he’d speak to Judith to keep her calm. “You alright, princess?”

I tried to smile, but I truly couldn’t tell if it worked. “Sure,” I breathed, thinking about walking next to the King here. “Just wrapping my head around-things.”

He chuckled and I shook my head. He was so used to being this, to doing this, that he couldn’t possibly imagine how this felt from my side. Then again, being with him and his overinflated self worth was probably going to be pretty fucking hilarious, if I gave myself time to acclimate.

“Am I supposed to kneel, too?” I asked, watching him intently. I felt, rather than saw, the truck swerve slightly. It was slight, but I noticed it, along with the fact that he’d removed the hand that touched me to join its brother on the wheel. Ah, me on my knees. Hm.. I wonder. “Negan?” I asked, quietly unbuckling the seatbelt he insisted I wear. “Baby, are you going to answer me?” I was waiting, waiting for him to get the image of me on my knees in front of him out of his mind, or at least out of the forefront of his mind.

He cleared his throat, his hands flexing on the steering wheel. “You won’t have to kneel to me,” he answered, his voice deliciously raw. “In public.” There it was, what I was waiting for. About fucking time.

I crawled over the seat and felt him tense up for about a half second. I knew, even if his rear guard was close enough to keep the truck in their sights, there was no way they’d see me doing this. Or even know that I’d left my seat, one of the few perks of being short. Licking my lips, even without him being able to see me do it, I really fucking needed this. And if the strain in his jeans was any indication, then so did he. Unbuckling his belts, fuck that plural belted crap, and unbuttoning and unzipping them, I offered one simple plea. “Don’t fucking wreck us, would you? I’d hate to bite this off, and I definitely don’t want to die before we get to that goddamn bed you keep promising me.”

And then my mouth took him inside for a playdate with my tongue. I know this might surprise a few of you, but Negan and I hadn’t actually spent all that much time on this. Foreplay? Who had the inclination? I imagine that was one of the best parts he hadn’t gotten to, but the fact was, when we’ve gotten naked it seemed like the very presence of the other one was foreplay. While that was amazing in and of itself, a girl needs a little protein now and again, if you know what I mean?

I took my time. I learned every twist and turn, every vein, every spot that made him hiss out a breath, or moan my name. I wanted to know how to please him, how to make him want more, how to make this man, this powerful being come completely undone. After all, he’d said we had hours ahead of us, what better way to entertain myself, then with him?

Too soon for my liking, I felt his thighs strain beneath my fingers. I knew he was about to go off like a firework in my mouth, but I felt like I’d only just begun. I would have pouted, but I knew I needed to focus. Pulling away at the wrong moment would suck, getting hit in the eye with the seed of Lucifer’s spawn would no doubt blind me. I continued my ministrations, taking care to hit every spot that I’d memorized being his favorites, and I was finally rewarded with a more satisfying protein shake than any single one that I’d been convinced to try before all hell broke loose. Who needs spinach and bananas? I’ll take a large Negan to go anytime.  
I was extremely careful to swallow every single drop, and to make sure that he was completely cleaned. Couldn’t have the fearless leader of the Sanctuary looking a mess upon arrival, could I? I tucked him back into his jeans, buttoned and zipped them up, then buckled up his multitude of belts. I considered, briefly, buckling them up opposite of the right way, but then reconsidered. Our relationship was still in the earliest of phases, I’d hate to be punished right away. Especially since I wasn’t sure what type of punishment Negan would inflict.

I moved back to the passenger seat, rebuckled my seat belt and sat back as though nothing earth shattering had just occurred. I could feel his gaze on me, but I studiously watched out the windshield. Not that the scenery was all that impressive, but I wanted to see what he’d say or what he’d do now. Entertainment, remember?

It was quiet as he drove, passing empty cars, passing cars with the living dead pressing against the windows, passing trees and more trees. I honestly thought that I’d broken his ability to put words together. And it was getting a bit worrisome, let me tell you.

I finally saw, out of the corner of my eye, his hand rubbing across his face. Ut oh. I waited for him to decide what he wanted to say or do. When he reached for the walkie that rested on the dash, I was completely confused.

“We’re going to need a break,” he barked through the walkie, and before any of his people could reply he gave this ominous warning. “Stop right the fuck wherever you are, and rest. I’ll tell you when we’re moving out again.” Then he tossed the walkie back onto the dash and faced me.

The urge to squeak, like a terrified mouse, came over me at the absolute darkness in his eyes. He truly looked like the Big Bad Fucking Wolf and I had a burning flash of realization that I was the tiny pig in this scenario.

“Take off your clothes,” he ordered. And for once, no smart ass comment could be found in my brain. I simply did as I was told. I unbuckled my seat belt and tossed my shirt off, shucked my boots and shoes, and I was completely naked in the seat. “Lay back against the door.” Another order and I realized that Negan really was in charge. Shit. “Spread your legs,” that voice, for fuck’s sake, that voice. “Shit, is this for me, princess?” His gloved thumb swiped the very clear evidence that I was more than excited and prepared for whatever his plans for me were. Tasting the slight dampness he’d swiped from me, he closed his eyes and savored it. Jesus. “I can’t believe that you’d start this shit before we even get there, but then again, you tend to start shit without thinking of the consequences. Isn’t that what you warned me about?” I swallowed and nodded. “You’re about to see the consequences, baby, and I hope they’re worth it.” With that, his head lowered and trust me when I say, it was FUCKING worth it.


	12. Feels Like Home to Me...What the Hell?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First night at the Sanctuary. A bed, finally a bed. In the light of morning, will I be ready for what the sun uncovers?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JDMsNegan~ It's in there, can you find it? LOL
> 
> Short chapter, but I'm working through my others to catch them up, but this was nagging at me to get out.

Our little detour along the road to the Sanctuary was well worth the delay. Well fucking worth it. Jesus, he’d threatened to do that to me for fucking hours, and I nearly met MY maker when he’d done it only long enough to keep me quiet for the rest of the trip. I had to take part of the trip to catch my breath and be able to put my clothes back on. Seriously, this is no fucking joke. When I say the mouth on him, I mean holy fuckballs, the MOUTH on him. 

When I finally regained use of my limbs, I pulled on my clothes and considered the very idea of the two of us unleashed on an actual bed. Fuck, we wouldn’t survive. Not the way he keyed me up and, God help me, the way I could give him a look and he’d be raring to go. I give it a week. One week before we were both husks, not human anymore, but clearly not the dead. Just completely fucked dry. 

Although, as I’d said that night in Spencer’s former abode, what a fucking way to go. Literally.

It didn’t take long after our ‘break’ to reach the Sanctuary. At least I didn’t think it had. Jesus, did he short circuit my fucking brain again. More of this and I wouldn’t be able to speak or think at all. Maybe that’s why women with functioning brains scared him. He wasn’t scared, so much as not used to them, seeing as one time with him and poof their brains were mush. Thank god I had more to spare than most.

“I can smell the gears turning in your head, baby girl.” Negan said, pulling up to the gates of my new home. “Don’t tell me you suddenly have second thoughts.” Was that, could he be afraid I did have second thoughts? 

I shook my head. “No second thoughts, Negan.” I was happy to note that my voice wasn’t the least bit strained from our earlier work out. “I was just considering new information as it’s made available.” There, let him make what he could out of that vague bullshit. 

He hummed, his fucking dimple appearing like he knew. “It’s late enough for me to ignore the usual bullshit from the crowd of cuntnuggets and get us to our rooms, princess. To that fucking bed I’m sure you pining after.” I tried to keep myself from squeezing my thighs together, no need to give him more ammunition. “I saw that.” Fuck, I didn’t even notice that his eyes slid my way. “Don’t worry, Callie, we’ll be in bed very very soon.” Jesus, could his voice get fucking lower? 

  
  
  


Alright, so hearing that people would kneel when they saw Negan coming was one thing. Being beside him when it fucking happened almost tipped the scale from weird to so goddamned bizarre that I wanted to pinch myself. Luckily I wasn’t holding a fork, because honestly, I may have fucking stabbed him with it. 

If I’d thought his exit message to Alexandria screamed “God Complex” then I truly had no fucking idea how heavy it would be when he was in his home domain. Seriously. I watched as men and women, young and old, dropped to their knees no matter where they were standing when he walked past. Seriously fucking Twilight Zone up in here. 

He kept his hand in mine, Lucille in the other, and he was fucking whistling. Like we were taking the weirdest fucking stroll that any couple with their third being a bat with a name could fucking take. And he hardly glanced at them. Just head high, Lucille swinging gently as we walked, and his hand tight on mine. Fuck, how am I supposed to learn to do this?

If I’d been asked the next morning where the fuck our rooms were, I wouldn’t have been able to tell anyone. Nor would I be able to find the damn things by myself. Luckily, I had a feeling that giving me a pop quiz wasn’t high on the list of things that Negan wanted to give me. 

He was true to his word. Our rooms, more like our apartment, were well appointed. I looked around, wondering if I’d spot anything left behind by its former tenants. He answered me while he watched me. “They didn’t stay here.” Ah, so no clues about them left behind. That was a happy gift. The rooms were decorated much as I’d expected, although I was shocked that they didn’t have pilfered sex toys or impliments. Where’s the swing, part of me wondered, where’s the cuffs and paddles? Not that I wanted, nor needed those things, but we’re talking about Negan for fuck’s sake.

The bed. Dear God, it was like heaven dropped to earth before me. Covered in the silkiest black and red sheets and covers, high off the floor, and I swear to my eyes it looked like a football field. I was so thirsty for that bed, that I didn’t even notice him coming up behind me. When his arms snaked around my waist and pulled me flush against his chest, I still didn’t drop my gaze on the magnificence of that fucking bed. His lips finding my neck, was like nothing to my urge to crawl on top of that mattress. And apparently he noticed.

“Fuck, Callie,” he groaned, nipping at the jointure of my neck and shoulder. “I think you only agreed to this arrangement for that damn bed.” 

I grinned. Turning in his arms, I let my head tilt back as he stood taller. “Well, you’re the one who built it up in my fucking mind, Negan. And I have to say, it’s amazing.” My voice sounded breathless, for a bed.

I heard him muttering about the stupidity of taking our beds and mattresses, but then his smile returned. “And just what kind of reward do I get for providing you with this amazing bed, princess.” Ah, of course, he wanted a gold star. 

I smiled up at him, two can play at that game. “My mere presence in this gorgeous, plush, huge bed should be rewarding enough, baby.” I cocked my eyebrow, waiting for his counter offer. 

I squealed when he tossed me over his shoulder, a soft smack on my ass. “Your presence, my hard cock. I expect more reward than just laying next to you, Callie Grimes, and I’ll get it.” A few steps and he tossed me onto the bed. Jesus, I was right, soft so very soft. I moaned at the very feel of the bed beneath me and the silky feel of the linens. “And that moan had better be more for me than this goddamn bed.” 

I bit my lip, but decided silence was best for now. Pulling off my boots, pants, and shirt I shimmied up the bed, laying myself back against the pillows. Shit, where did he find these fucking pillows? Dear God. I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the luxury of his bed, and felt the dip that let me know he’d joined me. 

When I opened my eyes I was shocked to find him completely bare too. Fuck, did I drift off? He was crawling up the bed, looking predatory and so fucking hot that I forgot about the bed. I forgot about the fucking pillows. I forgot about everything but him, and then his mouth met mine and I forgot about the world at large. 

  
  
  


Waking up next to Negan on our bed, yes I said OUR bed, because after last night it was definitely mine too, was much better than waking up after Negan tossed my ass onto a hard floor. I still hated mornings. Oh, that would NEVER change, but waking up in our bed, his arms wrapped around me, his heat against my naked skin, that made it marginally better. I snuggled into his embrace, hoping that I could drift back off, when I felt him hard against me. 

Jesus, was there a time of day when he wasn’t ready to go? I didn’t consciously do it, I swear, but I arched against him and maybe a tiny little noise of want escaped my lips. Just a little one. And then, I was on my back and he was over top of me, completely awake and clearly happy to see me. There wasn’t any preamble this morning, all foreplayed out from the night before, and when he slid inside of me I felt something that scared the shit right out of me. I felt content. Like I was home, finally home. As my body took over, my mind circled the thought and feeling. My home was with Negan. Fucking Negan.


	13. Two Minutes...It's Two Minutes and A Little Tinkle, Right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barely twelve hours in the Sanctuary and I'm already fucking shaken to my core. No, Negan hadn't ironed anyone's face. No, I hadn't watched him toss anyone into the boiler. No, I hadn't seen him turn anyone into a walker for added "security". It was worse, so much worse. 
> 
> I had a fucking doctor's appointment. Oh and the feeling that I might actually be in LOVE with Satan's son, that could be fucking with me too. You know, all in stride. Damn it.

Truth time, people. While the bed Negan provided for me was shockingly decadent, the shower in our own personal bathroom was hands down better than the brochure. Dear God. I was now spoiled for every other part of this miserable world.

And yes, I’m firmly aware that I’m deflecting from the shock of certainty that Negan, the man, the myth, the legend, was my HOME. Look, how would you fucking feel learning that, in your heart of hearts, while you’d tested the thought of falling in love with him, you went and did it without fucking even noticing it?

Seriously take a moment. Hash that kind of shock to the system around in your brain and tell me if you’d just roll with it or if you’d freak out inside and push it aside? Cause I think we all know my preference.

As I stood in the shower, looking up at the warm water dripping down Negan’s face to tease paths along his chest and lower, I drank him in. This man may have done horrible things, he did do horrible things, to my family, but I couldn’t lose him. I couldn’t, and the very thought of it nearly made me weak. Instead of focusing on more dangerous thoughts, I moved forward and followed the path of that water, finally kneeling before him and looking up. His eyes, already dark, stared down at me as he heaved more air into his lungs. I let my hands slide up his legs, teasing him while he fought against closing his eyes to the feeling. I was glad he was fighting, he’d missed watching my performance in the truck and I wanted him to experience the full show.

I felt him release that extra air he’d taken in as my lips wrapped around him and I hummed when his fingers slid through my wet hair. He gave me free reign, clearly enjoying what I’d offered during our trip, but eventually as I knew he would without the necessity of keeping the wheels on the road, he started to guide me.

“That’s it, sweetheart, right fucking there.” His hips were bucking forward as his fingers gripped my hair tighter. “Shit, Callie, your fucking mouth.” I felt the tension build in his thighs, his thrusts stuttering, and then I truly drank him in. As I took the same care to clean him, ignoring the warm water still cascading over us, I heard him sigh as he cupped my cheek. “What the fuck did I do to deserve you?” I smiled up at him as his hands reached down to offer me a hand up. Taking them, he pulled me back to my feet. And for the first time since we met, gone was the cocky confidence, gone was the BMOC, he looked at me like a regular man and I felt my breath leave me. “Seriously, Callie, what did I do?” He looked so fucking uncertain, like he wasn’t worthy of me and I felt the need to lighten him up, to lighten the tension that was building in me from this complete sincerity.

“You gave me that bed and this fucking shower.” I moaned dramatically, and his grin returned, not quite his usual, but I’d take it. I cupped a hand around his neck and pulled him to me, meeting his lips when they were within reach. Not yet, I begged with that kiss, don’t force me to confront it yet.

When we were drying off, he showed me a selection of clothes in our shared closet. I started to wonder if I was going to be wearing hand me downs from the wifeys. Then I noticed tags, brand new tags hanging off every single piece that was hanging there. And all were my size. Even the shoes, which begged some questions, but perhaps it was too soon to ask those, too.

I was happy, pulling out a simple blouse that was loose, but pretty and a pair of leggings, that he hadn’t put anything that wasn’t something I’d feel comfortable wearing. At least until he showed me our shared chest of drawers. Ah, I thought, pulling out some pretty fascinating lingerie, I had thought too soon. I put it away and pulled out a pretty bra instead, and laughed as I felt his eyes on me as I dressed.

“No panties, baby girl?” He asked, his voice sounded even rawer than usual. I turned to him and gave a wink. “You have a doctor’s appointment today.” He made it sound casual and I would have believed it was, but his eyes were suddenly studying his belts as he fastened them.

“I do?” I asked, pulling a pair of ballet flats out of the shoe storage of our closet. “And what is the good doctor examining me for, Negan?”

He didn’t answer right away. I waited him out, slipping the shoes on my feet and watching as he dressed. The t-shirt, the jeans, damn that ass. Wait, the ass wasn’t clothes, where was I? He caught me staring and he finally started to look like himself. A smirk, a dimple, and then a wink. “The doctor gives everyone a check up when they arrive.” He watched my eyes slit, and then added, knowing already that I wouldn’t do well with a surprise at the hands of a doctor, “and a pregnancy test.”

I sighed and sat down on our bed. Damn it. I didn’t want to deal with this, not yet. In fact, I would much rather put on some of that lingerie and tempt him back onto this fucking bed and pretend we were in hell and I was his fucking queen. Shit. “Do I get a say in this at all?” I asked, as I felt him kneel in front of me. His hand cupped my chin and forced me to meet his eyes.

“Callie, why wouldn’t you want to know, baby?” He asked, his voice low. “We need to know, sweetheart, so we can make sure you’re taken care of, properly.” He added the last before I could argue. He raised up enough to let his forehead meet mine. His eyes, windows to really know how he was feeling and I realized he was scared. As fucking terrified as me about this, and that made it easier somehow.

“OK.” I agreed, brushing his lips with my own. I pulled back making him groan. “Fine, when is my appointment with your doctor?”

His grin came back in full force. “You keep forgetting, princess, I run this place. Your appointment is whenever I fucking decide it is.” Shit. “So get your pretty little ass up,” he tugged on my hands as he stood up and I came up too. “And let’s get the show on the road.”

I paid better attention this time when we left our apartment. I took note of the twists and turns that took us down to the infirmary. I smiled as he pointed out the cafeteria, assuring me that we would be taking our meals in our rooms. He gave me a tour as he led me to our doom. I mean, as he led me to my first check up with the doctor.

“Callie, honey, this is Dr. Carson.” Negan swept in like he owned the place, which I had to remind myself he kind of did. “Doc, this is my Callie.” He said it with the same pride as when he’d introduced me to Lucille, who had accompanied us on my tour and to my appointment of course.

The doctor came forward and I sighed and went through the same type of exam that would have been perfectly normal in another time. Then came the moment, I felt the air grow still, and then Negan, fuck was he bellowing, asked for a pregnancy test. Dear fucking God, really? I felt my face grow hot, seeing the good doctor’s assistant, a pretty woman who kept shooting Negan looks that I didn’t feel like decoding, went to the cabinet and grabbed a box. I closed my eyes and felt like melting into the damn floor as she handed it to me.

She started to instruct me, but I cut her off, earning me my own look. “It’s on the box, I’ll figure it out, thanks.” I took the box and Negan showed me to a communal bathroom. Great, fuck, of course. Then he followed me inside. “Wait, are you planning on WATCHING me pee?” I asked, feeling a bit hysterical. He shook his head and sat down on the counter by the sinks. Great, a listening audience. Fuck, why not?

I went into a stall and shut the door decisively and locked it with a harsh flick. I read the box, pretty fucking sure it was similar to the one my mom had taken in a panic when she thought she was pregnant with Judith. Plastic stick. Wet tip with steady stream of urine. Cap. Wait. Yep, same fucking deal. I wondered, as I sat down and started the process, if Mom had felt this same panic I felt. Knowing that Judith couldn’t be Dad’s, knowing that whatever the outcome her life could change dramatically.

I finished. Wiped and flushed, and then opened the stall door. I handed Negan the test, capped and as sanitary as I could keep it, and washed my hands thoroughly. He glanced at me and I offered, “Two to three minutes, don’t shake it, it’s not a Polaroid picture.”

I leaned back against the counter beside where he sat, and waited, bated breath. I heard a rush of air leave him and closed my eyes. Shit, was that a good gasp or a bad gasp? And fuck, what was good or bad in this fucking case?


	14. Positive or Negative?  Or Good News or Bad News and Who The Fuck Can Tell?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The NEWS. 
> 
> I wrapped my head around it, or tried to. And I asked Negan what he was feeling about it. How could I deal with TWO shocks to my system in one fucking day?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super fucking sappy. Like I left the lid off the bottle of syrup and it spilled ALL the fuck over this chapter. Sorry not fucking sorry.

When you hear a gasp from lips that you’ve ONLY heard such a sound from during the most intimate moments two people can have, your mind goes there. First and foremost, you want to believe that it’s something good. That it’s a good thing that you hear this noise from that mouth during this moment.

But, considering the moment wasn’t one I was necessarily ready to experience, with him and his mouth or anyone else, I didn’t go to that place. Instead, I bit back my question of what the answer was, and wondered if it was a good gasp or a bad gasp. And then, because we both had very different ideas of what good or bad was in this particular situation, I couldn’t even take my eyes off the floor in front of me to try to see.

“Callie?” Negan’s voice was even closer than I’d expected, but ever stubborn, my eyes stayed down. “Baby, come on, let’s get back to the doctor.” Well, shit, that wasn’t exactly a yay or nay.

I walked beside him, trying to really work through what I wanted. Definitely him. That was easy. And maybe a baby, maybe. I mean it wasn’t like I didn’t have the experience from raising Judith this far, but this would be a different situation entirely. I’d have the little alien inside of me. And lest I forget, I could still see the aftermath of Judith’s birth. Of Mom’s death.

We made it back to the infirmary when I finally looked up. The doctor’s assistant was nowhere in sight, so that was a happy surprise. Getting whatever news from Negan and the doctor, I watched as Negan took the test to him and they quietly talked, without witnesses would be far better than sharing it with the entire Sanctuary. The doctor urged me back to the exam table and then, as I held my hands in my lap and Negan stood comfortingly beside me, he finally broke the news.

“Congratulations, it’s positive.” Of course it was, Satan always wanted to add to the family tree. “Now comes the fun part,” I looked up at him like he was batshit stupid and he chuckled. The fun part, I wanted to yell was what went into making the little demon, not this, trust me. “You’re going to have to prepare your body better. I’ll need some information about your mother and if you have further family history that will help too.” I nodded, feeling numb. And not a comfortable version of it. “Then I’ll give you prenatal vitamins and a bit of a meal plan, since you and Negan are-” at this he stumbled. Clearly he was used to WIVES and here I was, and what the fuck was he, and everyone else, supposed to call me and us? “Together,” safer probably, “he’ll make sure that you’re given what is necessary for a healthy pregnancy. And you and I will be seeing more of one another of course.” Yep, fun part. All the fucking way.

Negan’s hand found the small of my back and was rubbing what he imagined was soothing circles. I felt like crawling out of my skin at the contact. I didn’t blame him, truly I didn’t, but it was like the two of us had been FULL SPEED AHEAD since locking eyes on one another and I hadn’t really taken a fucking breath since the first kiss. I fought against shrugging it off, the contact, knowing he needed as much as he thought I did. As he rubbed, I gave the doctor all the information I could remember. I told him that Mom had given birth to me naturally, but that Carl had been bigger and so had Judith, I heard my voice break at the thought of Judith’s birth. Negan took over, and in a quiet voice told him what Carl had apparently shared about it, that my mom hadn’t survived. I offered as much as I could about my grandparents, telling them both that perhaps Dad had more information. Finally, the doctor handed me a huge bottle of vitamins, gave Negan what I imagined were helpful hints to keep your incubator in good repair and then we were released.

Negan seemed to understand that I was still processing. Our walk back to our rooms was quiet, no whistling, no banter. His hand did find mine, and I felt thankful for it, coming back to myself at least in that respect. The one that got comfort and a charge from his skin on mine, no matter how much or how simple.

He led the way into our rooms, his hand still in mine and then he reached for a walkie I didn’t notice. Giving orders for our food, for the entire day, I listened as I finally released his hand and took a seat on the sofa. His wasn’t as comfortable as the one in Alexandria, but it also didn’t try to eat me, so there was that. Once he finished barking orders, and telling everyone that he was to be interrupted only in the case of an emergency, and he meant emergency not some “idiots taking something from the fucking commissary outside their points quota”, he dropped the walkie and sat down beside me.

I finally looked at his face. The smile, the one I expected was definitely there, but there was a tightness in his eyes that I didn’t expect. I put the vitamins that I hadn’t realized I was still clutching down on the table in front of us and curled into his side. Maybe, just maybe this was a shock for both of us. I felt his arm curve around me, holding me to him as he kissed my head. I sighed, and he let out his own breath.

“How do you feel about this?” I whispered, almost scared to hear his answer. “Really and honestly?”

His other arm came around and using both he shifted me until I was straddling him and he could force me to face him fully. “Really? Honestly?” He bit his lip and locked his eyes on mine. “One part ‘holy shit this is fucking amazing’ and about four parts ‘holy fuck what am I going to do with a baby’.” I smiled as his lips met mine briefly. “I really want to go back to the hilarity I know is going to happen when we tell Rick, but shit, Callie, I never even knew that I COULD become a dad. And now, now I’m definitely fucking becoming a dad.”

I nodded, understanding a bit, except, “Why didn’t you think you could have children?” Curiosity, thy name is Callie Grimes.

He chuckled and rolled his eyes. “That’s the part of that you pick up on?” He leaned back while I stayed upright. “I was told so, by doctors and specialists and a bunch of fucking quacks apparently before this fucking shit started. Sterile. That’s the word they used.” I squinted wondering how that could be. “I don’t know how this happened, but there’s definitely happiness here, Callie. I wasn’t lying on that porch, you made me want it, even if I thought it might be impossible.”

“Then why did you think I could be, if you didn’t think you could?” I wasn’t sure the question made sense, but I was trying to figure all of it out.

“You make me think any fucking thing is possible, Callie Grimes.” He answered, cupping my face with one hand. “That and the fact that you didn’t have a single break in the times that we were getting even slightly freaky deaky.” His eyebrows waggled at me and forced a giggle from me. “I don’t know why I thought it, honest to God, but fuck, I did. And then it took fucking root and it was ALL I could fucking think about. About the possibility and that you were still fucking there, and I was still fucking here, and all I wanted was you here with me. Baby or no baby.”

Jesus, just when I got what I thought was the most shocking fucking news of my life, he goes and tops it. I bit my lip thinking, and then his mouth met mine and I got to forget for a moment all of it. We pulled back, and I got my mind wrapped around what he’d said. Negan. Big Bad Wolf Negan. Was in fucking love with me. Without saying the words, he’d just fucking told me.

And then it started clicking inside me, little by little. The vision of him with Judith, the ease he had with her, the gentleness. How his eyes lit up when he was holding her, a different light clearly from when he held me, but still breathtaking. How he made sure that no matter what his mood was, when she was nearby, he kept his temper down, his voice low, careful to not scare her.

Hadn’t I basically raised Judith from the moment Mom died? Hadn’t I taken her from Maggie and made up my mind right then and there that she’d survive? Diapers, bottles, stories, and games. I’d made all of it work. Sure I had help, but I would have it here too.

Negan watched me, as I came to it on my own. Was the timing ideal? No, but we lived in a nightmare world of death and biting. What time was ideal? At least here, with him, I had medical care. I had a doctor who, hopefully, would be able to make sure that I didn’t follow the dark end that Mom had. And, I smiled, taking in the man holding me, I had Negan. He’d give up his kingdom to make sure I was safe and protected and loved. He had, in part, giving up the wives. Giving my people peace and security that they weren’t beholden to offer him half of anything.

“How do you feel about this?” He asked, still holding my face, still staring into my eyes. “Really and honestly?”

I smiled at him, leaning in to give him a long slow kiss. When I pulled away, his eyes were that same dark shade that I yearned for. “I think I’m coming around to the idea.” Vague, but he expected it by now. He barked a laugh, and then our lips met again, and until the first round of our meals showed up we got lost in one another.


	15. How Can the Mouth on Him, Make the Mouth on Me Not Function?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm OK with the news, really I am, or I am as long as DEAR FUCKING GOD do that again!
> 
> I thought he promised no interruptions if I came home with him. I also thought he'd gotten at least SOME sense of who I was prior to offering...Guess we were wrong on two counts...

It would appear that I was beginning to get accustomed to my new status as ‘Negan Grand Overlord and Master of All He Surveys’ new boo and mother-to-be. Appearances can sometimes be a wee bit deceiving. I mean sure, while locked in his arms, thinking all the sweet positive thoughts that go with it, and that mouth, shit that mouth, it seems all well and good. 

Actually, I have a feeling being locked in Negan’s arms, letting his mouth play ‘what noises can I make Callie make today’, he’d be able to tell me the entire world has burst into flames and we’ll be dead in three minutes and I’d be fine with the news. Seriously, the mouth on him.

Eventually though, the real world intrudes. Sometimes it’s in the form of ‘if we don’t take a break, we’ll suffocate’ and sometimes it’s in the form of a knock on the door signifying food. Oh, food, sustenance, which a good incubator needs for the tiny squatter inside of her. 

Negan seemed as irritated by the interruption as I was, which I found weird. He was actually doing all the work, but he seemed to be pissed that his dessert was being interrupted by actual food. He groaned, removed my shaking bare legs from his shoulders, walked into our bedroom and grabbed a blanket from God knew where, covered me up so my modesty could be maintained, and then stalked to the fucking door like he’d rather kill whomever knocked then realize it was his fucking fault they were there. 

I’ve never seen a door opened so violently before in my life. And I’ve never been so fucking turned on by a door being opened before in my fucking life. Dear God, the fucking confidence and power radiating off him, along of course with rage. Rage was pretty fucking clear from the way he moved. He took in the tray that whichever poor schlub had the misfortune of turning up with, asking questions about the doctor’s instructions being followed to the letter for whatever the tray held. 

The poor minion nodded, looking like he’d rather sink through the fucking concrete floor than piss Negan off one tiny iota more. Then, with a wave of his hand, Negan dismissed him and slammed the fucking door behind him, right in poor errand boy’s face. Damn, I almost pitied him. Almost, but I’d been on the fucking cusp of another earth-shattering orgasm when he knocked, and honestly I was feeling a big on edge myself. Literally. 

“You could just sit that fucking tray down and get back over here,” I offered, rolling my eyes when he shot me a look of pure lust, accompanied by a wolfish grin.   
  
“I could do that,” he nodded, and I almost wept from the absolute certainty that I’d won, but then he followed it with, “or you could get your hot ass up and come to the table and put the fucking nutritious food in your fucking body so you and the baby survive dessert.” 

Ugh. See, I thought, looking down at my still too flat to make it believable to me stomach, you’re fucking with my sex life you little alien. Thanks a fucking lot.

We ate, and since I wasn’t about to have a great fucking time chewing through leafy greens and whatever else the good doc and Negan felt that me and junior needed, I asked more questions and Negan filled me in on the day to day at the Sanctuary. He told me that he’d need to get back to the call of duty the next day, and I looked at him and asked just what the high holy hell I was supposed to do while he went back to ‘work’?

His blank look, as though he hadn’t even considered the idea that I’m seriously not used to sitting on my ass and looking pretty, spoke volumes. Carl was right. The wiveys had served a really weird purpose. A harem that didn’t even have children to keep their asses occupied. I watched him chew his food, the exact same meal he’d requested for me I noticed, and try to puzzle out my question.

“Callie, princess, you don’t HAVE to do anything.” Negan’s pride at coming up with that fucking nonsense was nearly cute. Almost. “You can just sit and make yourself-”

“Pretty until you get back?” I snorted, taking a final bite of my own tasteless meal. “Um, have you met me, Negan?” I raised my eyebrow, noting his obvious discomfort. He didn’t, not really. Every time he’d come to Alexandria I was with Judith, or doing laundry, and once, shocker dishes. He honestly only linked me to DOING him. Shit. 

He finished his own ‘salad’ and sat back, considering how little he really knew me. See, I thought, this is why I’d asked for more time. To study you. To make sure that I could live with you. And I had a nagging suspicion that the parts of me he’d studied weren’t above my neck. 

“I know that you’re not just a pretty fucking face, sweetheart.” He muttered, rubbing a hand down his face and licking his lips. I wondered if his fucking salad tasted better than mine because of his pre-meal snack of me? Shaking off that wandering thought I watched him consider me for a beat. “It’s just- now that your condition is confirmed-”

I snorted, Jesus, he was making it sound so fucking clinical. And SO fucking unlike himself that I nearly doubled over. Plus, it sounded much easier to handle that way. My ‘condition’, hear that you little interloper, even Daddy can’t handle the truth in heavy doses about you.

He glared at me and I waited. “Now that we know, Callie, I want to keep you-”

I sighed. “Safe? Protected? Bubble fucking wrapped until they come screaming into this fucking world?” I shook my head. “That’s going to make me screaming fucking insane, Negan.” 

We were both leaning back in our chairs now. Away from one another. A standoff. 

“First things first, sunshine,” he grinned, “you and me have to pick your guard.” 

Right, fuck, my security. I wondered if they’d be forced to tie me to the fucking bed if I got too exerted during their watch? I nodded, willing to concede that I had asked for as much. “Fine, when do we do that?”

“Tomorrow, before I go back to ‘work’ as you called it.” He picked up our plates and replaced them on the tray and walked it to the door to sit it outside. Great, I couldn’t even clean up lunch. “Then, after that’s out of the way, you can give me a little time to consider what ‘job’ I’m willing to fucking let you do.” 

Let me? Let me. Are you fucking kidding me? Now, normally my mouth would be unloading on him, but Negan never fights fair. Ever. Because after he laid out this new dictate on my new life, he picked me up and carried me to the bed, to continue enjoying his interrupted dessert. And this time, he didn’t leave me hanging. 


	16. More Than A Pretty Face...Didn't I TRY to Tell Him That?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Negan listens well, and sometimes Negan hears what he wants to hear. When he FINALLY asks the right question, what will he think of my answer?

Negan hadn’t lied about being able and more than willing to press his mouth tight against me and spend hours enjoying me, giving me pleasure, and most certainly short circuiting my damn brain again. Can oral sex be an art form? Because I fucking swear to his unholy father, Negan was the Michelangelo of fucking cunnilingus. Maybe that’s a trait he got from Satan? Perhaps his daddy gifts his children with all the tempting sexual arts, which, to tell you the truth had me reconsidering my negativity about Negan’s parentage. And would explain why I imagined Hell to be populated with only the very best people. Or at least now I did.

And he took every attempt made by me, swearing I’d had enough, that I couldn’t possibly survive another swipe of his tongue, suck of his mouth, or dear fucking God the nibbling of his teeth, as a fucking challenge to prove me wrong. Our sheets were soaked, not by my own fluids, not those kinds of fluids anyway, but by the sweat that poured off of me. That man, with just his fucking mouth, made me sweat like I’d run miles without rest.

When he FINALLY decided that I’d had enough, he rested his chin on my lower stomach. His eyes locked on mine when I regained the ability to open them and focus. That fucking smile. Those fucking dimples. Satan must be so fucking proud.

“I think if you’re going to make this a regular fucking deal,” I managed to choke out, my throat so dry that I’d happy try drinking vinegar or half the fucking ocean on the off chance it would give me relief. “Then I’m going to need more than fucking salads to survive.”

He laughed, hopping up from our bed as though he hadn’t done enough oral exercise to develop a bad case of fucking lock jaw, and jogged to a small fridge I hadn’t noticed to grab a bottle of water for me. He opened it and then handed it to me, watching to see if I could hold it in my still shaking hand. I managed to NOT spill the entire thing on me, but a few drops met the bare part of my chest peeking out from the loose shirt I’d worn to the doctor.

I looked up to see him mesmerized by those drops and their path down my chest. I handed him the bottle back, watching him take his own long drink. Ha, I thought, thirst work wasn’t it? And then, capping it and placing it down on the nightstand, I watched as he almost fought against himself.

“Negan?” I managed to bring his gaze back to my face. “It seems like, well, your mouth is fucking AMAZING,” I couldn’t hold back a small moan at the mere thought of what he’d done to me. “But I think I want something a tad bigger than your tongue.” I reached for him, and he sighed, finally getting to follow those fucking water drops to where he’d seen them roll off to.

By the time the next knock was heard, we were laying facing one another, just resting. I wondered if we’d ever get tired of it, the pull that our bodies seemed to have for one another. I didn’t think I spoke out loud, but he answered me anyway.

“Never.” He kissed me gently, and smiled with a certainty that made me wonder if Satan also gave him a gift for seeing the future. “I will never get enough of you, Callie Grimes. Ever.”

I chuckled. Touching his skin with my fingertips, feeling a rush that I knew he felt too. “Never? Ever?” He shook his head, taking my hand in his and linking our fingers.

“Nope. You’re stuck with me, sweetheart, fucking FOREVER.” He was leaning in for another kiss when the knock came. Sated, he wasn’t as irritable as when our lunch showed up. He groaned and tossed on his jeans after rolling off the bed. I started to follow, but he waved me off. “Don’t you dare move.” I looked up and he was grinning. “Think we’ve both fucking earned dinner in bed, princess, don’t you?” With a wink he went to retrieve whatever meal the doctor thought best for me and our little nightmare.

It was more filling. More meat, more starch, more tasty. And I once again noticed that he’d had the exact same meal made for him. I wondered if the entire fucking Sanctuary was on my prenatal diet. I almost asked, but honestly, I’d had enough fucking weirdness with the whole kneeling thing, that hearing that what was good enough for Satan’s grand-baby was good enough for everyone would have sent me barking mad.

Sitting in our bed, my back against the headboard, which he also cushioned with the pillows that I fucking loved and him across from me, still wearing his jeans, but shirtless we ate and chatted. Well, I thought we were just chatting before I noticed that he was asking me questions to finally get to know me, well more about me.

“You went to college?” It wasn’t in the tone of ‘you know how to spell your name’ condescending, but actual interest.

I nodded, chewing the bite I’d just taken and swallowing before giving more information. “Yeah, full ride to Agnes Scott.” His eyebrows rose, so he knew of it. “I told you I have thoughts running around my belfry.”

“No shit.” He took his own bite and I wondered, if he was asking questions to learn more about me, then why not go along and get more to go on with him.

“What did you do before?” I gestured all around, so he’d get the idea.

Taking time to chew and swallow, he grinned. “Guess.”

I let my head fall back to study him. What would Negan have done prior to the world going asshole over teacups? Biker club president would be an easy guess, but I’d learned early that Negan wasn’t easy or simple, at least anywhere I wasn’t concerned. Another guess would be police or corrections, but Dad had been a sheriff’s deputy and somehow I didn’t see Negan following orders or the code of anything without chafing. Negan liked to be in charge. He liked to be the one who made the rules, and he was more than ready to enforce them.

“Were you a teacher of some sort?” His grin urged me on. What class would Negan teach, my eyes fell on Lucille propped up against the night stand, within reach. “Physical education, right?”

He nodded, his grin growing with his chuckle. “How the hell did you guess?” He had stopped eating, and so had I, clearly enjoying our new game.

“It’s what I had started studying, human behavior, psychology.” I shrugged. “It was something my guidance counselor suggested, because of, well I have a natural aptitude, I guess.” I looked down at my plate, but felt too full to eat more.

“That explains,” he stopped clearly thinking about something that he knew that I didn’t. He took a few more bites from his own plate, then his eyes focused on mine. “You need to finish that.” Ah, an order, how lovely.

“I’m full.” I answered, not willing to go to the ‘obey’ part of whatever this relationship was, no matter what hitchhiker I was sharing my body with. I pushed the plate to the side and let my legs stretch out.

Negan eyed me, considering I’m sure whether it was worth the argument. He finished his food and I asked the obvious question. “What does my God-given talent explain?”

His eyes met mine as he swallowed his final bite. “My first visit to Alexandria. We didn’t just take guns and beds. We didn’t just bring back medications. One of my guys found a camcorder.”

I closed my eyes. Fucking shit. Damn Deanna. “Ah.” Was all I could manage.

“Your answers, they played right into what whoever was recording expected.” I opened my eyes to see him studying me with new interest, interest that had nothing to do with my lack of clothing for once. “You knew precisely what to say to make that person trust you, trust Rick, trust your group.” There was a shrewd look in his eyes and I smirked. “How?”

And so I explained to him what my little weird trick or intuition told me. How to work through a person’s ideals, their expectations, based solely on behavioral cues. On the way a person carried themselves, and in the people or community surrounding them.

“It’s hard as hell to teach, apparently, for anyone who doesn’t have the knee gut reaction, I guess it’s called.” I brushed the wording off. “But if you do, then it’s as easy as opening a book and finding out some of the secrets. I can’t mindread, or whatever, but I can usually tell if someone is trustworthy, or if they’re lying.”

He bit his lip, but I could see the wheels turning in his mind. “Huh, well aren’t you just full of surprises?” He smiled at me and I felt my heart thump an extra beat. His pushed his plate away to join mine, then he was hovering over me again, hungry for more dessert I could see.


	17. Gobsmacked... Spelled C-A-L-L-I-E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK, so I'm having a baby. That was a come to Jesus moment right there.
> 
> Then there's the "now that we're shacked up, let's get to know one another" plan.
> 
> And then I find out that the bat is named in memory of Negan's most important before ever.
> 
> So why the hell would learning that the entire fucking domain that Satan gifted him with thinks of me as- his fucking queen bring me up so short? I mean shorter than I stand clearly. Maybe it's the cold icy dread I feel about being bowed to? Or maybe it's just too freaking much on top of too freaking much?

I might not like mornings, but you know what I do like? Hearing a knock on the door signifying that Negan’s about to be interrupted while attempting to coax out a new noise out of me. Not the interruption itself, trust me, I’d MUCH rather not be left dangling over the precipice, but that look in his eyes that says ‘I am about to go on a fucking tear the likes of these assholes have never seen.” 

Guess I’m going to have to add the absolute terror that he can put in to the hearts and minds of others as a kink too, because fuck if it isn’t extremely hot to see. It was our breakfast of course. And hearing him growl at the poor sucker who pulled delivery duty was pretty fucking sexy. I got out of bed reluctantly, and threw on Negan’s discarded t-shirt and pulled on a pair of panties from my drawer. 

I walked barefoot to where he was setting up the table, and leaned against the wall to observe the way he moved. Languid, like a cat, I thought. Completely at ease in his domain, which was how the man was in EVERY domain. His jeans were hanging low on his hips, having tugged them on sans belt, and I was wearing his t-shirt, so he was once again shirtless. And he was barefooted, like me. His toned chest, dusted with matching salt and pepper hair that I’d found he enjoyed me tugging on at any point in our intimacy, made me bite my lip. Fuck, was he really all mine?

“You gonna keep starin’ or come over here and fucking eat, like a good girl?” He asked, not taking his eyes off the food. Studying it, probably making sure nothing was amiss, or maybe hoping they fucked up so he could take out some pent up aggression that sex didn’t fix.

Shaking my head, I walked over and wound my arms around his back. Kissing his spine, I felt his hands cover mine. I pressed my cheek against his back, feeling him relax into my touch. “What’s for breakfast?” My words are quiet, but my contentment with this new normal of mine clear, I hoped.

Negan turned, kissing the top of my head. “Take a look, baby girl.” But his arms wrapped around me, naturally and easily. I leaned around his tall frame and took in scrambled eggs, fresh baked bread, some type of meat, and a dish of oatmeal at both of our seats. Dear Lord, there was no way I could fucking eat all that. 

I groaned, and felt him chuckle. “I get that I’m ‘eating for two’ and all, but these fucking portions are going to kill me.” 

One of his hands cupped my chin to force my eyes to meet his. “Just eat, princess.” And with a kiss that made my knees go weak, he released me and held out my chair. Such a fucking gentleman, I swear.

Rolling my eyes, I sat, but I waited until he took his own seat before picking up my fork. As we ate, we got back to our ‘getting to know you’ chatter. “Tell me what your life was like before all this.” I wanted to know who the man was before he became this version of himself. 

Negan studied his food. He didn’t answer, and for a moment I wondered if he would brush it off. Not every survivor liked to talk about their life before. As though talking about it made it less real, or more real depending on the person. He surprised me, however, and finally looked up and told me. The entire story. His wife. Her sickness. His infidelity. The ups and downs of his career. And most of all, how he felt he’d failed the woman he’d married as the world truly turned to shit.

“She turned.” His voice was as quiet as mine had been when I walked in this room earlier. “And I knew I should-” He stopped, eyes pinched with a pain that I hated to see. “I couldn’t. Not her. Not after every shitty thing I’d done.” His eyes landed on that damn bat and I realized, I knew that it carried her name. Lucille. His true wife. A woman he felt he’d never done right by, not even when she died and came back. 

I listened, eating absently, and wondered what he really saw in me. Why he picked me. What he wanted from me truly. When he was finished telling me his history, I looked down at my food and was shocked to see it was almost completely gone. Who knew? Who knew that hearing a man who was larger than life explain that he was fucking human would make me ravenous? Or at the very least distract me enough to overeat. 

“Thank you for telling me.” I offered, putting my fork down, feeling more than full. “I, maybe I shouldn’t have asked-” I stopped and tried to collect my thoughts. “I’m sorry if sharing it was painful.” It was lame, to my own ears, to try to offer- what? Sympathy? Comfort? It was too little, but I wanted to take his pain away. 

He shook his head, glancing where my food used to be. “If sharing painful things with you gets you to fucking eat? Then I’ll tell you any damn thing you want to know.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. I sat with him, no longer asking for more information, while he ate his own breakfast. “Is that my shirt, Callie?” His eyes, no longer pinched, turned dark. 

I beamed at him. “Yep.” I watched him eat while studying me, in his shirt, sitting across from him. 

I learned something during breakfast. Negan can keep me eating absently by just telling me his story. A combination of his voice and the fact that he was baring his soul to me. I could keep Negan shoveling his in, just by sitting there wearing his clothes. 

I also learned that Negan is always hungry. For me at least.

Another shared shower, and Negan left after we both got dressed, promising me that he’d be bringing a few Saviors up for me to pick and choose from for my own “security detail”. I seriously didn’t know if I felt more like a First Lady, or the fucking Queen. I was just opening my mouth to ask if I’d be left to my own devices for the interim when he answered me.

“Dwight is gonna be right outside the door, Callie, if you want something he has a walkie. I forgot to tell them to get you one.” He was pulling on his leather jacket and picking up Lucille as he told me this. Then, lest I forget that he’s insatiable, he yanked me to him with his free arm and kissed me long and hard. “I’ll try to keep this shit brief, but who knows what the place has gotten into while I’ve been up here with you. And fuck if I wouldn’t rather stay.” He pulled away after brushing my nose with his. “Damn, this is fucking hard.” He groaned, and in case I forget which part of him was particularly affected, he adjusted himself. And then, he was gone. 

I spent the time exploring my new living space. Negan had kept me pretty fucking occupied, not that I was complaining, but I wanted to know where everything was, and what everything consisted of. 

I found a linen closet of sorts, stocked with spare bedding and throws. The small fridge that he’d grabbed my water from was stocked full of snacks and more bottles of water. I hadn’t noticed the bookshelf when I first walked in, but looking at the offerings I smiled. There was variety, which meant I wouldn’t get bored yet. I went through my closet, my shoes, my lingerie. 

There was a knock on the door as I was looking through Negan’s side of the closet. It was my lunch, and the delivery person wouldn’t make eye contact, not until I thanked him. Then he shot me a look of utter fucking confusion. What the hell? Did manners not exist here? Dwight was looking at me over the tray-bearer's shoulder, and I shrugged, but asked him to wait while I gathered the dirty dishes from breakfast. Leaving the door open, I rushed to where Negan had piled them back on the tray, and grabbed it. I gave it to the poor kitchen guy and smiled, offering another bit of gratitude. Another fucking look of utter bafflement crossed his face. Shit. Seriously?

Before I could close the door on Dwight and the retreating back of the delivery guy, my temporary guard grinned. “You’re his queen, girl, get used to these assholes lookin’ at you like you’re some kind of fuckin’ goddess.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes, and it definitely didn’t make him look more believable. I glared at him, and shut the door. 

Lunch went quickly, mostly because Negan wasn’t here to make demands on my stomach contents. I chose a book and plopped down on the sofa to read, grabbing the blanket I’d left there when we were interrupted the day before. I stopped reading and considered that. I’d only been in the Sanctuary for one full day. Holy shit. One day and my entire life was changed. 

I’m Negan’s main squeeze. I’m carrying a tiny being inside of me that may or may not be related to the devil. My family was who knew how far away. And I was learning that the entire fucking population of this community considered me a fucking queen. Dear God. That’s more unbelievable than when I first heard that dead people were coming back to fucking life. 

Gobsmacked. That’s the word that completely described my emotional situation. I was fucking gobsmacked.


	18. When Did the Last Brothel Close Shop...Or What Jobs Did the Wives Have Before?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Convincing Negan that I have a brain enclosed in the head he thinks he loves is pretty damn difficult, but so is forcing him to work for my time and attention. 
> 
> Fighting fair? Negan doesn't know, nor want to know, the rules of engagement. Not that I'm complaining...Much.

I’d managed, through sheer force of will, to push the unpleasant truths of my new living arrangement far far back in my mind. With the slate I cleared, I was able to fall into the book I’d grabbed from the shelves. I fell so deeply into the story that I almost didn’t hear Negan’s return. Almost, but who could drown out that whistling as it grew closer? Especially knowing intimately what else the lips doing the whistling could do…

I kept my nose in the book, planning on making Negan work for my attention. Bargaining power only worked if he knew he wouldn’t get everything with me so easily. My attention was going to have to be earned. Even if I knew he was a dirty fighter.

“Ah, there’s my girl,” his grin could be heard in that fucking voice of his.

Certain, I was sure, that I’d launch myself into his arms and make him feel like a 50s husband who just got home after a hard day of bread-winning for the little woman all day. I had to stop myself from snorting at the thought. Sure, he’s a 50s husband who happens to bear more resemblance to the Fonz than to Darren Stevens. Good luck with that, sweetie, I thought, keeping my attention on the page in front of me.

I felt him sit at the end of the couch that I was reclining on with the throw he’d tossed over me the day before. He shifted my legs, lifting them so he could move closer, so my legs would be draped over his lap, from knees down. The throw was still over top of my body, and his hands were running underneath along my leggings covered legs. I kept ‘reading’ even remembering to turn the page here and there.

“Callie,” Negan’s voice had gone to that low, deep, dark place that made everything on me tingle, but I refused to acknowledge it, or him. His fingertips were touching my bare ankle, light but with the callouses my nerves were coming alive. “Sweetheart, what are you reading?” Fucker, I thought, you KNOW that if I speak, and it comes out the least bit breathless, then you’ve won this round.

I took a beat, keeping my eyes on the page of God fucking knew what fucking chapter, and tried to remember what the story had been that kept me so engrossed before I heard him whistling. Shit, what the fuck? Clearing my throat, I lifted up the book so he could see the title for himself. Then I put it down and continued ‘reading’. I felt him shift, moving his hands to my waist, and lifting me so he was at the end where I’d been laying, and now my ass was cradled in his lap. Damn it, I swallowed, feeling how very much he missed me while at ‘work’.

“It looks good,” his voice in my ear. “Why don’t you read it to me?” Oh, he really really didn’t play fair. I felt his lips touch the shell of my ear and my eyes closed. “Callie? Princess? Don’t you want to share with me?”

Another swallow for me, and I forced open my eyes. Sure, why the fuck not? I started from where I’d turned the page absently to while playing with fire. As I read, Negan tempted me to completely lose my damn mind. He’d touch my hand holding the book, running his fingers along my wrist, his head on my shoulder. He’d turn his head and run his nose down the curve of my jaw, listening for any signs that he’d truly won a hitch in my throat, a sigh, but I kept reading. Bringing in the big guns, his lips started exploring my neck, kissing and nipping at every spot that he knew would drive me insane. Until I forgot to read, closed my eyes and just enjoyed the attention he was lavishing on my skin.

His chuckle against my pulse point made me bite my lip. “Finished already?” His hand took the book from mine and tossed it at the table in front of the couch. “Thank fucking God.” And then our lips met and I moaned. As our tongues touched, I forgot why I’d wanted to refuse to give in to his presence, why I’d been playing hard to get. I forgot everything except him and me, and what we could do to one another.

When we were finally satisfied, which took less time than I thought possible, we lay on the couch together. I had to admit, giving in was always worth it with Negan. I was laying over top of him, my head tucked under his chin, my hand over his slowing heart with his arms wrapped around me to keep me in place. As our breathing regained control, our hearts stopped racing, we relaxed settling in to just being together.

“How was your day?” I finally asked, wanting to hear his voice rumble through my cheek.

His chuckle sounded tired, we had just exercised pretty hard after all. Then he sighed. “The usual,” then as though realizing that I would have no idea what the usual entailed, he kept going. “I always have people pushing for more or taking more than they’ve earned. And with the-” He stopped, and I waited for him to gather his thoughts. “Now that I’m monogamous,” ah, I thought ‘the wives’. “I have a new round of people having to relearn their places.” I started to shift, feeling uncomfortable that I’ve caused him problems, but his arms were like steel holding me to him. “It was bound to happen, Callie.” I felt his lips touch my hair. “You’re more than worth it. It’s just the fucking learning curve.” I felt him groan at the thought. “And finding something they can do, for fuck’s sake, you teased me about them being just pretty fucking faces, well I’m learning that for the most goddamn part, you’re fucking right.”

I propped my chin up on his chest so I could look up at him. “They did nothing except sit here-” his eyes narrowed, and I corrected myself. “They sat wherever they were given space and just waited for you?” The judgement was heavy in my voice. I couldn’t imagine doing that, that anyone could hope to fucking survive in this world without learning to be useful. And sex, while amazingly fun, wasn’t exactly a marketable skill when surrounded by dead biters. “Did they all come from brothels?” That last one was meant to be an internal dialogue, but of course it fell out of my lips.

Negan laughed, no longer sounding tired, and I shook my head. “I’m startin’ to wonder about that myself, Callie.” He shook his own head. “I swear to fucking God, I have no fucking clue what they did prior to latching onto me. None. And now I really fucking wonder.” He studied me, and his smile grew. “Then there’s you.” Ut oh. “Itching to get the fuck out of these rooms to be useful. Fighting to have control over ANYTHING. Jesus, why didn’t I find your ass sooner?”

I let my head fall back to lay on his chest. “You weren’t ready for me.” I shrugged, not knowing how, but knowing it was the truth. “Are we still going to do interviews for my ‘guard’?” I could feel the irritation growing at the thought. I’d negotiated for it, the power to choose, but it grated on me to have to have security. Then again, if what Dwight had said was true, and I had to trust at least that much, then I might need them.

“Yeah,” he said, running a hand up my bare back and into my hair. “I told Dwight to have a few I think you’ll like to come up after dinner.” His hand was tugging the band from my hair, letting it fall in curls down my shoulders. Once free, his fingers began brushing through the silky strands. “They’re people I trust, with my life, Callie.” I knew that he wouldn’t say that about just anyone, but then again he trusts Dwight. I nodded, relaxing at the feeling of his hand running through my hair. “Your hair is fucking gorgeous, baby girl.” I could feel his body coming alive under mine. “Why don’t you wear it down more?”

Propping my head up again so I could meet his eyes, I smiled. “Ever tried getting gore out of long hair? Or undead leavings? And God fucking damn it, imagine one of them grabbing it?” My smile turned to a smirk. “Practicality keeps it up. Even in Alexandria, just because anything can fucking happen. No matter how safe you think you are.”

He considered my words, his hand still running through the curls, letting them twist around his fingers. “Practical?” He squinted, and kept thinking. He licked his lower lip and I waited. “You’re really not at all like them, are you?” And I was fairly certain that wasn’t a question he needed me to answer.

We were dressed by the time dinner arrived. Negan had gone into the bedroom to do who knew what, so I answered the door. The same delivery boy stood on the other side, and he seemed braced for my kindness this time. He even managed to smile as I handed him the tray from lunch. When I thanked him, he remembered to say “you’re welcome”. Progress. Thank goodness.

I set the table, finally able to do SOMETHING without Negan taking over. When he came out, I’d put the identical plates in our regular spots and had taken my seat. I heard another chuckle leave him as he came closer to join me. “Feeling better?” He asked, and I shot him a look. “It really fucking irritates you that I want to pamper you, doesn’t it?” He took his seat and stared across the table at me.

I stabbed a bite of the potatoes that were growing cold on my plate. “Why would you think that?” I asked, biting my fork with more force than necessary.

His laughter told me that my poker face may need to be relearned for him. “It’s a theory.” He picked up his own fork and we returned to the ‘getting to know you’ portion of our day. “If I would let you do any job here,” he gestured around him, as though I needed help understanding, “what would you prefer to do?”

I considered what he was asking, eating carefully through more of my dinner. “What I did for our group, I guess.” I shrugged, thinking it was most logical.

His brows furrowed, and he took a drink from his glass. “Laundry?” I snorted, shit, that’s right. He’d only witnessed the household chores of Alexandria. Poor man.

“Negan,” I shook my head. “Laundry, taking care of Judith? Those were just family chores.” I giggled at the mere idea that I’d only been a housewife with no husband. “Dad, he understood my little talent, the one you saw me work in that video. That’s what I did. I was his human lie detector.”

I watched him digest this, as he absently ate. Did he honestly think that Dad would let me run off if I didn’t have SOME idea of how to take care of myself here? And that I’d rush off with Satan’s favorite offshoot without some inner understanding that I had a pretty decent understanding of human behavior and that I felt safe with him? Jesus, living with those multiples must have made him assume that sex overrode every brain synapse in a woman’s head. Not that he didn’t manage to short circuit me now and again, but so far it wasn’t permanent.

“How?” He asked, and I smiled.

“You saw how Deanne chose to greet new people? The videos, the questions? They’re fucking useless if you don’t understand human behavior. She convinced herself that being a former politician made her see more than a regular person on the street.” I took another bite, chewing and swallowing before continuing. “It may have worked, but she failed to add in the stress and uncertainty that comes with surviving this bullshit. It changes people, and so sitting down with a layperson and ‘telling all’, has to be reran through a sieve that filters what’s being said, shown, and known with what that person has experienced.”

As I shrugged, he studied me with interest. Learning more about me was apparently making Negan appreciate me more. “And you can do that?” He’d leaned back, food forgotten.

“I told you, I can’t read minds, but behavior? That’s simple.” I looked down at my own plate and was shocked that it was almost empty again. Seriously, how did he fucking do it? “Deanne was different in so many ways. She hadn’t fought, not really. Her people stumbled into Alexandria, and she realized it was a boon. Yet, when her people started scouting for people to join, they didn’t know and she didn’t know how the world changed people. Why would they?” I thought of Aaron, and hoped he was doing well. “She asked questions that didn’t matter. She listened to words, but didn’t pay attention to the thousand yard stare that some people get when they’ve seen too much and are more dangerous because of their quiet and calm. She didn’t use the knowledge she was so fucking smug about to actually comb through the people better.” It had been her downfall. That and refusing for the people to learn useful skills, and learn to kill “She had no idea she had a domestic abuse situation under her nose. She didn’t think learning to survive ‘in case’ was worth the effort. And so, she died. Because, from what I’ve experienced, ‘in case’ or ‘worst case scenario’ has a pretty high fucking likelihood of happening.”

Negan was watching me as I explained. “You’d be able to tell what exactly?” I liked his curiosity. That he wasn’t blowing it off or pretending it was a parlor trick.

I sighed, and took a drink from my own glass. “If a person fidgets, when meeting a new group, it means different things. Fear, discomfort, uncertainty, those are normal, especially now. Couple the fidgets with another tell, shifty eyes with the inability to make eye contact, tugging at any part of their clothing at waist level and then you have to look closer. Eye contact isn’t something we have to fear against walkers, some dickhead humans sure, but walkers aren’t all that interested in staring deeply into your eyes. And the tugging? Concealed weapon, or some type of mark or branding are both possibilities.” I leaned back in my own chair, pleasantly full now. “I can’t tell you that they’re dangerous, but I can tell you where to look to find out.”

He let out a long breath. “Fuck, no wonder Rick kept you out of the first fight.” I was about to object, but he kept going. “You’re too fucking valuable.” Or my mouth overrules my ass, I thought, but yours sounds more complimentary, so do go on. “What do you need to be able to do it?”

I laughed. “A person? A neutral spot?” I shrugged. I’d been gauging people for my entire life. I didn’t really know what I’d need. “I do it without thinking most of the time, Negan.”

“You don’t like Dwight.” It wasn’t a question, but I knew he wanted to know how and why.

I shook my head. “I don’t trust Dwight, there’s a difference.” I stood up, needing to move to explain. “There’s a lot going into it. The way he gave up everything that was taken from Daryl that he took for his own. The fact that you could punish him in such a permanent way.” Negan was nodding with my words. “And there’s a way he stares, at you, that makes my blood run cold.”

Negan’s eyes were furrowed. “He got Sherri back. He’s one of my best warriors.” I could tell this wasn’t to me, it was him trying to see what he’d missed.

“And yet,” I said, making him refocus on me. “There’s something there that even you aren’t sure about.” I knew that too, watching the two of them interact. Negan always seemed to be testing him, and Dwight always seemed to know it. “Maybe he doesn’t trust that he’ll get to keep her, or maybe he’s still fucking angry that you got to have her for so long? I don’t know, I just know that I don’t trust him.”

“What would your suggestion be?” He asked, and I knew I might shock him with my answer, but it was the truth.

“Keep him close. Don’t let him have an inch, but don’t let him know you suspect.” I offered, moving to his side. “There’s a saying, ‘keep your friends close-’”

“‘And your enemies closer.” He finished, pulling me onto his lap.


	19. Harsh Realities...AKA Alexandria's Safety at What Cost?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Picking the head of my security detail was simple. It was simple to show Negan my little gift in action. It was simple to fall into the security that he gave me, that he'd promised, and that I was certain that he'd fulfill.
> 
> What can I do when I learn that I should have looked at the fine print of that 'peace treaty' Dad and Negan came up with? Backing down now, now that I know how I feel for him just won't do, but will I have to face uncomfortable truths about the man I've fallen into? And how will I change from if I accept them without challenge?

Not long after we finished dinner, the knock came to the door to announce a round of ‘who gets to guard Negan’s baby’ inside and out. Two women and two men, all fierce looking, and all who would be terrifying to me, if I hadn’t survived the hellscape for as long as I had. I waited, seated in the chair I’d eaten dinner in, as Negan pointed each out to me and waited for me to ask questions to decide who of these warriors would lead my own version of his little security detail. 

“Laura,” Negan pointed to a blonde woman with an fascinating neck tattoo. “Arat,” the woman who’d killed Olivia without flinching. “Jared,” a long-haired man who flicked a look at me and then refocused on his fearless leader. And “David,” the other man, who should have looked away after meeting my eyes, but seemed unable to stop himself from looking and licking his lips. 

I studied them from my perch as Negan came to stand beside me. I knew, even if he wasn’t thinking of doing it, that this was my first challenge. My first test of my little talent. And so, I relaxed and took in the four people standing at attention in front of me. David was a hard no, I could tell that from the moment his eyes met my person. I’d say my own eyes, but honestly he wasn’t looking at my face. No, his eyes were roving over me in a way that made me want to take a long hot shower in Clorox. If I wanted him dead, I’d draw attention to it, but I had a feeling with the way he was looking at me, Negan would have his blood on his hands sooner rather than later.

Jared, the other man was the exact opposite. He’d barely glanced at me, which begged the question of why? Why couldn’t he look at me? Was it fear of Negan? Or was it something else?

“Jared?” I asked, forcing him to flick his gaze at me again to show he was listening. “What weapon are you most dominant in?” A safe question, for most to answer, but the answers were always telling. 

I could see several thoughts flit across his face. The way his jaw tensed. The flinch of his irritation at being asked to account for anything to the likes of me. I watched, silent and waiting, but before he could muster his answer, I moved on. 

“Laura?” I watched Jared’s face, seeing it burn red at being skipped over from his answer, and continued. “Would you be comfortable leaving Negan’s personal service for mine?” 

“Absolutely,” Laura was grinning at me and I felt like she was being not only honest, but serious. I’m sure she felt watching over me would be a vacation of sorts. “I’m willing to perform whatever detail Negan asks, or you, if necessary.” I liked her. There wasn’t that shadow that seemed to float over most of his Saviors. 

I smiled, and nodded, my eyes still on Jared. He was fuming. “Jared? Have you finally come to an answer?” I could see him fighting against growling out an answer to me, and to be honest, I didn’t need to pay attention to what he said. It didn’t matter. I knew he wouldn’t be safe near me, or vice versa. 

I looked at the final woman. “Arat,” It wasn’t a question, because, while she looked as sincere in her willingness to guard me, I wouldn’t take her from Negan’s side. This warrior woman was the one person in the entire room that I would trust his life with bar none. And for that reason, I wouldn’t entertain keeping her for myself. “I think that I’d rather you stay in your current position, if you don’t mind.” Her curt nod, meeting my eyes and a small smirk finding her lips, was all I needed to know we understood one another. 

David wouldn’t be asked any questions. Not now, at least. I crooked my finger to Negan, so he’d lean forward for my decision, as though it wasn’t obvious. Laura would lead my team. I’d have time tomorrow to sit with her, and discuss anyone else she wanted to add. 

Once the four were dismissed, Jared shooting me daggers with his eyes and David looking like he’d missed out on his favorite fucking meal, Negan closed the door behind them and locked it. He turned to me, questions heavy on his mind.

“David is dangerous.” I said, standing and collecting our dinner dishes. “Not to you, possibly, but to all the women he deems worthy of his notice. Seeing David, might mean every single person here with a vagina.” I heard his hand rub down his face. I shrugged. “He couldn’t keep his eyes off of me, and not my lovely face.” 

I felt Negan’s arms wrap around me from behind and leaned back into his chest. “Jared hates authority. Especially a woman’s. And he hates to be questioned.” I felt Negan stiffen. “One day soon it’s going to end badly for him, he’s going to press the wrong person, and he’ll end up dead.” I said it as matter-of-fact as I could, because it was true. 

“And Arat-” 

“You don’t want her because she killed your friend.” He answered for me, and I turned in his arms and looked up at him. 

I shook my head and cupped his cheek. “No,” my voice was quiet, but sure. “I don’t want Arat because she doesn’t hesitate to protect you. She’s fierce, she’s loyal and she doesn’t flinch to keep your ass alive. I won’t take her because with her beside you, I know you’ll keep coming back to me.” And there it was. My own proof of how I felt without saying the ‘l’ word. 

The look on his face was priceless. I’m sure it was the same one I’d worn when he’d made his own declaration about his feelings about me. And then he lowered his head and our lips met, that fire that he’d begged me to recognize in the laundry room in Alexandria flared up. For once, he knew that I felt it too. Just as strongly, just as real. 

Our morning began as our mornings were destined to begin every day from here to the end of time, wrapped up in one another, a moment of irritation from me for the daring nature of the sun to wake me up, and then Negan reminding me why being awake with him wasn’t such a horrible experience. As we sat at breakfast, me in his discarded t-shirt, him shirtless and irresistible, we talked. 

I was slowly learning that with Negan, it wasn’t just physical. We could talk, about Sanctuary business and about how I could see things that he didn’t notice, along with our pasts. This morning, he reminded me of my promise to tell him about my stellar romantic history. AKA how many times and places had Callie gotten caught in the middle of something?

I’d just finished telling him about the time my best friend’s entire family had walked in on her brother and I in their living room, his laughter rolling around me when he glanced up, those gorgeous eyes of his dark with desire. I licked my lip, and went for the one that I knew would make him the most shocked. 

“Then there was the time I got caught by Dad’s fellow sheriff deputies.” Negan’s eyes widened, his grin so full that I almost lost sight of his dimples. “Bar parking lot, after hours, got too hot in the truck so we opened the door. He had me bent over the seat and I was ALMOST there, when the spot light hit us, and there were two honorary uncles telling us to get the fuck home.” I stopped, and took a drink of water for a dramatic pause. “I asked if we could finish first, because I was nearly there.” 

That did it, Negan pounded the table with his fist, laughter bursting from him like a broken fire hydrant. “Oh my god, princess, that’s too fucking much. What the fuck did Rick say?” 

I blushed, bright burning red. “Um, yeah, well it was even worse. One of those ‘uncles’ mentioned to Dad that he hadn’t noticed how grown I’d gotten.” Dad had slapped the fuck out of that guy, not Shane, but another gross ass deputy. “He nearly got put on suspension for hitting the fucker, said it was worth it, and begged me to THINK about where I was when the urge hit.” I shrugged and bit my lip at the memory. It was gross, thinking about someone who’d watched me grow up and still had that thought hit him when I was in the throws of passion with someone else. Ew. 

He was watching my face, and I saw that cloud descend. He was agreeing with Dad, I could tell, and I was thankful that that deputy was most certainly dead now. Negan, needing a break, changed topics. 

“Your talent was impressive last night.” He started, finishing his breakfast. “I’ll be keeping David under more scrutiny. I fucking hate men who think women are prey.” I considered his look as he’d crawl up the bed, predatory, but fully consensual and understood. “As for Jared,” he sighed and sat back. I hadn’t been able to fully articulate his danger. Yet, he knew that he was dangerous, I had a feeling he heard it from others. “He’s been working with Gavin collecting from the Kingdom.” I felt my stomach flip. The Kingdom? Hadn’t they been released from their servitude, like Alexandria? “Gavin told me he was having issues with him, but Dwight mentioned a change of duty might help.” Of course, Dwight mentioned. My thoughts were still twisted, curious about the Kingdom and what this information meant. “I’ll have to consider what his next spot will be.” 

“The Kingdom?” I asked, taking another drink, feeling a bit dizzy at the thought that I really should have listened to the treaty that came at the price of me being here. “Aren’t they included in the deal Dad made with you?” They had helped, were helping, by giving Carol a place to recoup from her freak out during the attacks. Hell, it had been Jesus that had helped Carl find the Sanctuary. 

Negan’s look was one of shock. “Sweetheart, no.” He shook his head, staring at me with wonder. Clearly he assumed I knew more than I obviously did. “The only community that’s had their requirements levied was Alexandria. I told you, I was only willing to give up that.” He was reminding me of the vagueness I’d listened to. Shit. “Callie, you knew that, I told you.” It was nearly a plea. Nearly, but tinged with exasperation at my disbelief. 

I swallowed the knot that was growing in my throat. “Yeah, I did.” I nodded, feeling the fear for Maggie, situated in Hilltop, at the mercy of that idiot Gregory. “Sorry, must have been a few longer days than I thought.” I was trying to keep my panic at bay, trying to keep myself calm, but I realized that I’d consider myself part martyr for choosing him, and I hadn’t even thought to hear the full details. I was going to have to censor my thoughts or ideas about Maggie, didn't Negan think she died? I’d have to pray that she wasn’t attempting to create an army to fight him, and for the first time I wasn’t entirely sure which side I’d be on in that fight. 

Negan was watching me, of course, and I knew even without my little talent he’d read me fairly well. He saw far more than most people would give him credit for, seeing only the cock surety of his personality and the ego he allowed flow around him like armor, but I knew. I knew that he could see more and figure out how to appease it, or use it to his advantage. 

“Callie,” his voice urged me to look at him. And like a moth to a flame, I complied with both the power of his voice and my own need to see him. “You have to understand,” he was trying to explain himself, trying to make me realize his reasoning, and I did. It didn’t make it an easier pill to swallow. “This place runs as well as it does, it stays going and we stay safe because of the other communities.” I nodded, knowing this, but feeling him trying to reassure me helped calm me somewhat. “I’m not unfair, sweetheart, even if the parts that you heard sound like it, even if the way you experienced it made it seem like it.” I knew he was thinking about our beds. “We keep them safe, we keep ourselves going. That’s it. Taxation.” 

“Without representation?” I asked, not judging, but trying so desperately to really understand. I knew my eyes were showing how desperate I was for him to calm me, to show me who he was under the badass leader I’d seen, that one that turned me on, and the one that everyone feared. 

He sighed. “People are resources, Callie.” His tell, a hand rubbing down his face, showing his feeling of losing control of any situation. “I, we, don’t fucking kill people randomly. No matter how it might seem from the situation your dad put me in. Every community I, we take supplies from, helps build us, and in return-”

“Safety,” I repeat. What are they gaining security from, I wondered? Unknown dangers, or looking at the father of my unborn child, you?


	20. We're Going to Either Break Down the Walls... Or, Are Those Candles?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan keeps me on my toes. Even with all the unfortunate truths that keep invading on us, the man can fucking surprise me every single fucking time.
> 
> While I go about learning the ins and outs of the Sanctuary with my new guide, Laura, including important side quests like "which ex-wife should I check for weapons on the reg", Negan is setting up a surprise that I would NEVER see coming. Who fucking knew?

OK. So learning that Negan’s deal with Dad did NOT include anyone outside Alexandria was my come to Jesus moment. I had a difficult choice to make. Was I going to be able to let it go, knowing that out there Maggie lived knowing that the man I loved killed her husband in cold blood, and that she would no doubt seek vengeance? Or would I try, even knowing that Negan had repeatedly told me he’d given all he would, to convince him to give more? And how would I do it, when he didn’t know that Maggie survived? When he had no idea that my family had spread out among the other communities, that Dad for his own reasons hadn’t negotiated for them?

I stewed, and for once the two of us kept our hands to ourselves. Negan, as I was learning, was a great judge of when to push his luck and press his advantages, and when to wait. Biding his time and letting me come to terms with this new knowledge in my own time. Even his ego could take a break. And so, while I rolled the newly confirmed logistics about the deal, we talked about other things.

He continued to explain the Sanctuary’s rules. For others, clearly, since I was a cut above. The point system. How his people tried to keep the others in line, without utilizing him until absolutely necessary. The fact that he felt pretty fucking happy that he no longer had to enforce the wife laws, shooting me a glance to be sure that I took note of his trust in me. I nearly laughed, the very thought that I’d give the time of day to one of his minions. Downgrading to something less powerful and alluring sounded like fucking stupidity to me, but then again, I hadn’t been taken by the overlord from my mate. And I hadn’t thought I’d sold my soul to Satan to be with him either, that tiny voice whispered in the back of my mind, but here we are.

Of course, I thought, now my fucking overactive brain decided to pipe up with some fucking complaints. Sure, thanks a lot, you twit.

“Callie,” I felt Negan take my hand and forced myself out of my own thoughts. “While you and Laura talk about who to add, I want you to keep in mind that the guard outside isn’t permanent. I just-” He took a breath and I stared at his face. “I want to make sure you’re safe. Here with me. Even when I’m not right here.” He was explaining himself again. “You’re not stuck in this room, go wherever you want, I just need to know-”

I found myself smiling at him. He was so fucking worried, about everything. “I get it.” I nodded, thinking that I’d need to have the former wives pointed out to me, and wondering if Laura would help with that. “I do, and thank you for letting me know that I’m not locked in a cage.” I turned my hand over so our fingers could link. “Maybe Laura and I can stroll around and talk about the technical aspects today.”

His smile, those dimples, returned. I could almost feel the tension rolling away from him. “That sounds like a fucking plan.” He stood up from the table and our clutter of dirty breakfast dishes. “I have to get ready,” he looked uncertain. Would I want to join him for our morning shower? Should he ask? I could read his face like a book. And the uncertainty nearly broke me in two. I stood up to join him and took back the hand he’d held mine with, with a tug, I pulled him to our bathroom and showed him that it didn’t matter. At least not for now.

Dressed in his uniform, that damn leather jacket, t-shirt, and jeans combo was always going to do something to me, I stood naked in the center of our bedroom. “Darlin’, you’ve gotta put something on,” his voice was strained, and I looked over my shoulder at him staring at me. “You’re fucking killing me here.”

I grinned, “I just-” I gestured at my open closet. “Fuck I have no fucking clue what to wear.”

He came up behind me, his fully clothed self pressed against my completely bare back. “Why the sudden problem with grabbing an outfit, Callie? It’s just fucking clothes.”

Sure, I thought, to him it was ‘just fucking clothes’, but I’d been informed how his people viewed me and I had to prove that I was worthy. Of him, for them. And God, I don’t know, in case I met up with one of the cast offs. Shit. “Dwight told me that your people see me in a certain way, and-”

He groaned. “What the fuck did that moron tell you?” I felt his hands sliding down my arms, distracting me slightly from my nerves. “Tell me, Callie.”

I sighed, and shrugged. “That I’m half goddess and half Queen?” I gave my own groan. “The fuck does that combination wear to go out there?”

I felt him chuckle. “I’d suggest you pick something, because if you think you’re going out in what you’re not wearing now, I won’t have fucking people. They’ll all be fucking dead. Cause no one sees you like that but me.” This came out as a growl and I grinned. Fucking territorial, shocked he hasn’t pissed on my damn leg to show just who I belong to.

“Even the women?” I asked, liking this new game, even if it wasn’t technically helping.

“Especially them.” He said, his mouth starting a tortuous path down my neck. “Don’t fucking care if they want you or envy you, dead. All of them.” I felt a slight nip and my eyes went closed. “Mine.” He growled, tongue flicking against my pulse. “All fucking mine.”

I turned to face him and our lips slammed together. Fuck. The shower hadn’t been enough. Would we ever really find out what ‘enough’ was? My naked chest flush against the leather of his jacket, and even through those damn jeans, I could feel how hard he was for me. In a flurry of hands, his clothes were ripped away, and then, as though denying one another for mere moments amounted to years, we came together. All teeth and moans, pounding need and absolute rawness we joined. And I had to wonder if he’d released the guard already, because if not, then whomever had been picked, must have bleeding ears.

We hadn’t made it to the bed. This was absolute raw sex. And it happened against the wall beside our closet. A part of me was thankful that it was the outer wall, because I was certain that he’d have pushed me through the drywall as hard as he was going. Our noises, my name ripped from his lips, his fighting out of mine, were so loud that the echoes seemed to go on even after we finally rushed over the cliff.

As he held me to him, my legs still wrapped around his hips, our breaths coming out in heavy pants I felt his fingers massaging my hips where he’d gripped so tightly. “Damn it, I think I fucking bruised you, baby girl.” I heard how upset he sounded and looked up at him.

“Hey,” I whispered, my voice almost gone from the screaming. “Worth it, Negan, those bruises were fucking worth every fucking moment.” I kissed him gently, letting him know I knew he’d never intentionally hurt me. “Now we have to start fucking over,” I chuckled, thinking about the shower again.

He shook his head, the pain in his eyes lessened by my reassuring words. “Nope.” He said, carefully setting me on my feet. “You, Callie Grimes, are going to walk around all fucking day smelling like ME. Like us. Like the sex that we just fucking had.” I felt a twist of lust build in my stomach. “And I’m going to do the same. Smell like you, all fucking day, until we come back here. Because I want every fucking person in this fucking place to know exactly who belongs to who.” He kissed me on my nose. “But you still gotta pick a fucking outfit out, because you can smell like fucking, but no one gets to enjoy that fucking body like this except me.” And with a swat on my ass, he whistled while he redressed.

While I stood there, tingling from the mere thought of what he was saying. His. Smelling like him and sex and every fucking person here knowing. Shit. Fuck.

I’d managed to pick something out. If you asked me once I was dressed what I chose, I’d be lost. No fucking clue. I had to stop myself from checking to see if I really did smell like him. Like sex. Because then I might have fucking stayed in the damn rooms, and I’d be stuck there for the entire day again. Shit.

Negan had remembered to procure me a walkie of my very own. After walking me through which channels were important, and the most important, his, he kissed me and waited while I told Laura I was ready for her to come up. I swear, he looked like a proud papa. I rolled my eyes, about to inform him that Dad and our group actually utilized the fucking things too. I stopped when I watched him staring at me.

“What?” I asked, feeling strangely self-conscious. I fidgeted, pulling at the blouse I’d apparently picked. Tugging it down over, wait did I pick jeans today? Hazarding a glance down, I confirmed. Well fuck. And I’d put on boots. When did I fucking do that?  
His smile was almost blinding. “You.” He said, simple and easily. Like I was the answer to it all. “You’re a fucking-” he stopped, licking his lips. “One day, you’re going to tell me what I did, Callie.” I raised an eyebrow, what the fuck was he talking about. “To deserve you.”

Ah, well shit. I wondered the same thing, half the time, I couldn’t fucking understand how we came to be. But whether we deserved one another, I was fairly certain that we did. “I think we’re just-” I fought to put it into words. Non-sappy or weird romantic words. “We complement one another.” I squinted at the fucking inadequacy of that explanation. “Shit, I can’t even articulate what I want to.”

Negan’s hand came down to Mom’s rings. He fiddled with them, and I could see that he had a question burning through him, but then he let go and sighed. “Me either, princess, me fucking either.”

Another kiss, and the knock on the door came. Laura, reporting for duty, I thought. He pulled away from me reluctantly, and I moved to open the door. My new head of security stood there looking totally at ease. “Hey, boss,” she grinned at me, and nodded at Negan as he came up behind me.

“Hello, Laura.” I hoped I sounded more confident than I felt. This was fucking absurd. “I thought you could take me on a tour and we could chat about who you’d like to add?”

She nodded, and after Negan gave me another kiss, we started off. “Remember, Callie, call me if you need me.” He called after me, and I felt that same tingle from earlier. I always needed him, and it scared the fucking shit out of me.

Laura gave me a better tour than Negan had, simply because I wasn’t completely freaked out by everyone dropping into the dirt or floors when we walked together. Thank fucking God that I didn’t merit the same fucking attention. She took me through the marketplace, showing me how the points system worked in reality. Through the kitchens and cafeteria, pointing out how everything came together. We skipped the infirmary when I mentioned I’d been, happy that she didn’t pry. We finally ended up outside, and I breathed in the fresh air, happy we were upwind from Negan’s grotesque security measures. Taking a seat at a table off to the side, we started to discuss her ideas.

Laura was thorough, and careful with her ideas. She’d noticed how I gauged them the night before, and mentioned that I’d get to meet each of her choices to make the final decisions. As we sat, I finally asked what was burning me up with curiosity. “Laura? Could you point out the former-” I stopped and swallowed the bile I felt built up at the thought of multiple women who knew Negan intimately being in the same place as me. “Wives?”

She studied me. Watching to see if I’d elaborate. When I didn’t she offered a comforting smile. “Guess I’d want to know too,” she shrugged. “Sure. I’ll point them out. I’ll even tell you who chose to offer themselves and who went back to their men.”

I was thankful. For her understanding, and for her lack of questioning. As my guard, she had to know that some of these women might be a threat to me. And soon enough, they’d have more reason to hate me. Like when I started to show the proof that Satan’s grand-baby was growing inside of me.

We walked back, taking a similar route so Laura could inconspicuously show them to me. Sherri, who was married to Dwight, and looked pretty happy with her new lot in life. Working in the marketplace, she had a smile on her face and her brown hair tied back. She offered a wave to Laura and a look of interest in me. Amber, a small blonde, working in the laundry. She reminded me of a mouse, but Laura told me that she was happier now that she was returned to Mark. Mark, like Dwight, wore his punishment for cheating with her on his face, but I watched as he walked in and kissed her. Her entire bearing changed. Lighting up and giggling.

Frankie, the red-head who’d been relegated to kitchen duty, was scowling at the orders being thrown at her. Laura didn’t have to tell me that she’d chosen to be with Negan. She was pissed at having to be back among the commoners, I could see that even from a distance, and when she caught sight of me with Laura, the look she shot me could have singed my fucking hair. Tanya, Laura told me, I may have seen in the infirmary. And it clicked. The assistant, the look she’d shot Negan. And I knew she too had chosen Negan.

There were two more, both having been returned to their men. Janet and Ali, and they, like Sherri and Amber, were content. So clearly the danger lay in Frankie and Tanya. And I knew, from the look that Laura shot me that she agreed.

I let Negan know that I’d finished with Laura as we walked back to our rooms. His answer seemed brief, but I hadn’t expected us to use the walkies for phone sex. I let myself into the rooms, and my eyes had to adjust. The lights were off and the living area was lit entirely by candles. What the hell? I felt my heart pound, and walked toward our bedroom, where the scene was set. More candles, everywhere, and lounging on our bed looking more like a male pin up than a man like him had the right to, was Negan. Stripped down to a pair of red silk boxers that I hadn’t seen before, and looking good enough to eat I felt my mouth go fucking dry. Dear God-fuck that dear Satan, we thank you for the bounty we are about to fucking enjoy. I smiled, and pulled off my clothes as he watched, wanting nothing more than to join him and forget about any reality that existed outside our rooms. For as long as we could.


	21. An Interlude:  NOT A CHAPTER, NOT REALLY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Literally, JUST a photo board: Callie Grimes' fashion sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I'm working on the next chapters...I thought I'd show everyone what inspiration I use when I think about Callie. Her personality, her way of dressing, it's like armor, for each of us. And so, that's what this "Chapter" is...Just a photo album of sorts, so you can visualize what I'm thinking when I write her dressing for the day, be it in Alexandria or the Sanctuary. It's important, because I compare how Negan understands that she wouldn't appreciate any similarities between her and the wives. So these are the cleaner, nicer outfits he gifts her with, note NO little black dresses. Even though she doesn't necessarily know that's what they wore.

Sans the jacket, necklace, watch/compass, and plant, and make the shirt wine colored, and this is pretty much what he saw on that first day in Alexandria:

Remove extras (jacket, jewelry, backpack, etc.) and you've got the laundry room outfit (OK, and MOST of the weapons): 

Doctor's visit, sans the extras, but add a long chain with Momma Lori's rings and substitute those boots with some ballet flats: 

What does a goddess/queen wear? Basically this:

I have no doubt that I'll either add to this post (hey, she's gotta have maternity clothes, doesn't she?), or create another 'interlude'...More chapters coming soon!


	22. A Job...A Purpose...And a Dress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a full month since I came to live with Negan in the Sanctuary. A month of changes to my life. A month of having my own guard. A month of learning how to live among a completely new community. 
> 
> Negan surprises me with my new job, not what he's chosen, but that he finally fucking chose. And now I'm putting on new armor ready to face new challenges. 
> 
> And of course, he's made another fucking doctor's appointment.

Negan found a ‘job’ for me. It came sooner than I expected, but Laura had found three other guards that I didn’t hate on sight quickly too, so the world was full of surprises. 

I’d been at the Sanctuary nearly a month when he told me over dinner. My days had begun to have a sense of routine and normalcy. I’d wake up, wrapped up in Negan, he’d use all the persuasion he possessed to convince me mornings weren’t his father’s least useful gift, and we’d have breakfast. Our chats kept going, even traipsing into less than safe territories, and while I wasn’t able to make him budge on the Kingdom or Hilltop, we learned more and more about one another. Then a shared shower, dressing for the day, and he’d go off to show the community what a badass, yet fair leader he was, and I’d get started on my own day.

I had felt that Laura needed to be clued in on my ‘condition’. She needed to know that Negan wasn’t simply insanely protective of me for my own irresistible self, but that I was growing a tiny little terror inside of me that he’d no doubt burn the world down to protect. With that in mind, she didn’t blink at my daily walks through the Sanctuary and outside in the fresh air and sunshine. She became adept at knowing which way the wind was blowing, literally, because the scent of walker security was a surefire way to make me lose my breakfast. 

We’d go through the marketplace, and I’d managed during one such trip, to find a book on pregnancy. I’d been a good student, but science hadn’t been my strong suit, so biology wasn’t high on my list of things to memorize. It’s how I learned that our little demon seed was practically microscopic, and I started preparing for what was coming. 

And with this book in hand, my chats with Negan started to include what we were going to be experiencing. “Wait,” he said, holding up a huge hand during dinner the night he would tell me he’d decided on my role inside the Sanctuary. “How fucking big is their head gonna be again?” Yes, I’d been regaling him with the joys of childbirth, during dinner. And we’d decided to call the bean “they” since we didn’t actually know the sex. Shut up, we’re progressive.

I checked the book, and grimaced. “Around thirteen inches in circumference is the low end of the scale.” Ugh, gross. “I was a premie, so if our bean takes after me, they could be tinier.” 

“You came early?” He asked, still eating somehow. “Don’t remember you telling the good doc that during your checkup.” I rolled my eyes. “Thirteen inches,” he whistled and I shot him a glare. “That’s-” he held up his hands and gave an example. “Fuck, baby girl, that’s gonna hurt.” 

Asshole. I was glaring at the book, and trying not to squirm at the thought of something that size passing through me. “Yeah, but I’ll be holding your fucking hand the entire time, so better start exercising those fingers, I’d hate to fucking crush them.” 

Negan laughed, and I took a drink when I looked up at his flashing eyes. “I have good news for you, sweetheart.” I put the book aside, thankful for a break from the terrifying future. “Tomorrow you go to work.” 

I raised an eyebrow. Really? “Picked a job that you’re ‘willing’ to let me do, have you?” I knew I sounded cranky, but seeing as I just realized how fucking huge babies really were and the fact that he’d been so adamant that I only work at what he felt I should, well I was fucking cranky.

He leaned back in his chair and grinned. Unfazed by my irritation, which pissed me off a little more. “Yes, I have.” Those damn dimples mocked me. “I have the leaders of my outposts coming tomorrow for a meeting. They think they’re just being introduced to you, my new-” he stopped, we still hadn’t fucking given what we were a label, and EVERY time he made the ‘wife’ suggestion I gagged, at him, mind you. “They think it’s just an introduction.” He moved on, past the confusion of what the fuck we were. “You, my lovely Callie, are gonna use that wonderful talent of yours to let me know just how trustworthy my people are.” 

I grinned at him. Clever, that’s Negan. My Negan, I thought, wanting nothing more than to prove myself and also, to show the fucking entire community that I wasn’t just his willing concubine. “Of course,” I answered, pushing my plate away. “What time should I be ready?” 

The next morning, after performing his duty of convincing me that sunlight was not the enemy in the most mind blowing way he could, he smacked me on my bare ass, and ordered me out of bed for breakfast. That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, Negan had begun beating the delivery people to the punch. I swear to fucking hell, he was waking me up earlier and earlier, and I would one day smother myself with a fucking pillow to stop it, but he took great pleasure of waiting with our living area door open so they couldn’t interrupt or fucking knock. 

Fucker, I thought, as I tugged on my morning outfit of whatever shirt he’d tossed off the night before, grabbing a pair of panties that I’d ONLY don during breakfast, and meeting him in the living room. I have to say, watching him wait for breakfast with the same glee I probably waited for presents on Christmas morning, was hilarious. I swear, once he’d decided to take away the unknown power that our food delivery person had over us, he became a fucking child. One day, soon probably, he was going to hide behind the open fucking door and shout “BOO” when he jumped out just to get a new fucking thrill. 

I was shaking my head, and getting the dirty dishes from dinner gathered, when I felt him creep up behind me. His arms wrapped around me and he propped his head on top of mine. “Have I ever told you how fucking hot you look wearing my shirts?” His hands were smoothing down my still pretty damn flat stomach, teasing the soft fabric of his t-shirt. “When you come out here every fucking morning in one, it’s all I can do to fight the fucking urge to lay you down on this fucking table and have YOU for breakfast.” 

I could hear the rawness in his voice and my stomach clenched with the picture he was painting. Me, laid out, much like our first flirtation on the dinner table in Alexandria, only naked this time and being savored. Jesus, I swallowed at the fucking burn growing across my skin. 

He was dipping his head to nibble along my neck when we heard a throat clear. I nearly laughed, nearly because I fully remembered Rule Number 1, and also because for ONCE this wasn’t my fault. Ha. I felt his groan against my skin, and then he pulled away and stalked to our open door. Letting go of a silent giggle, I took the empty dishes to the door to hand them to the poor guy standing there being glared at by Negan. 

He took them from me, and I offered what I hoped was a sympathetic smile. Then closing the door, I rejoined the father of my child at the table. Negan was setting the table, something I’d reluctantly become used to, and he held out my chair for me as always. We sat and discussed what I could expect from the meeting he’d planned for the morning. 

“Any preferences for what I should wear?” I asked, eating my food without argument. Another concession I’d made during the past month. Why fight the serving sizes? Especially since, and I’d never admit it to Negan, but I was growing more and more hungry by the day. 

He considered my question, knowing it didn’t come from a place of vanity. I wanted to be seen as formidable, but also as Negan’s whatever the hell I was to Negan. “One of the dresses?” It came out as a question, mostly because I hadn’t chosen to wear one of them yet. I could tell he wasn’t certain I liked dresses. “They’re all pretty functional, pockets, good length should shit go wrong.” He was building a case for why he’d given them to me, I could see, and I smiled to show him I got it. 

I nodded, wanting to sigh because today panties would be a requirement. Fuck, I thought, I hate underwear. We ate, talked about the day, and then he reminded me of another appointment we had today. “Dr. Carson says you’re due for another checkup.” I gave another nod. Yeah, it had been about a month, another checkup would be routine at this point. “I’m thinking after the meeting, we’ll have lunch and head to the infirmary.” 

“Sounds fun.” My tone showed exactly how not fun I found the idea. 

A shower, brief this morning, since we had so much to do. Then we were back in our bedroom, Negan having a simple task of tossing on his usual outfit. Me, well, I was opening the section of the closet that I’d ignored until now. Dresses. I didn’t hate wearing them, but a part of me wondered how wife-like I’d be looking in one. As I’m flicking through the offerings, I pull out one that makes me question just what kind of fantasies my personal sex machine may harbor for me. 

“Negan, baby?” I ask, glancing at him and holding up the very plaid dress I’m holding up. “Is there something you want to share with the class about this?” 

His eyes are twinkling as his grin grows. “I thought you’d look hot in it, princess.” Uh huh, in a tartan plaid dress that hints at a schoolgirl fantasy if I’ve ever seen one. 

“Gotta say, Coach, I fucking hated gym, but I’m pretty fucking certain this wasn’t the uniform.” I started to put it away, cute as it was I was pretty sure that wasn’t the image I was going for today. His arms wrapped around me and he nuzzled his face in the curve of my shoulder. “Really?” I whispered, wanting more information, just so I understood. “Is it because of my size, or-”

His laughter against my skin forced a new rush of need to roll through me. “I’m not a fucking pedo, Callie.” He kissed my neck and I could feel his smile against my skin. “You’re so fucking tiny, and I saw it, and fuck if it didn’t give me an idea or two.” 

Ah, I bit my lip, running my own scenario through my mind. “I think we’re going to explore those ideas, Negan,” my voice a breath, “soon.” 

Another laugh, and another swat on my panty covered ass. “Get dressed, woman.” 

I mumbled about the fucking need for panties, the need for a dress, the fucking irritation of having to be awake and dealing with this shit. My hands landed on a wine colored sleeveless wrap dress. Mesh covered the shell which was made of stretchy fabric, and it did have pockets. I wrapped it around me, happy that I didn’t have to change the bra and panty set I’d chosen and smoothed it down so it settled just above my knees. If it was ever necessary, I actually could fight in it. Impressed at Negan’s care in choosing my wardrobe, once again, I pulled out a pair of ballet flats and a pair of canvas sneakers. As I was deciding, Negan offered his choice.

“Sneakers, babe.” He was pulling on his leather jacket, and watching me intently. I raised an eyebrow wondering at his choice, but didn’t argue. They were cute, and they worked, so I tied them on. 

He came over to fix my necklace, as I brushed and braided my hair. Dropping a kiss on the bare skin of the back of my neck, he smiled at me in the mirror’s reflection. “You look good enough to fucking eat, darlin’.” 

“I’m going to hold you to that,” I answered with a smile. “Should we head out?” 

I was nervous. I’d met the people around us, fighting to keep hold of their names. And while Laura and Arat were becoming more familiar to me daily, the rest were kept at a distance. And here I was heading to meet the men and women Negan trusted to act in his stead at the outposts. Places that my family had attacked and killed at. As butterflies fought in my stomach, Negan’s hand took mine, and together with Lucille we made our way to meet these leaders, meet them and have me pass judgement, I corrected myself. 

Hopefully, I’d find nothing and no one amiss, but I didn’t count that as likely. Negan surrounded himself with people who were fighters and survivors, and I knew, better than most what it took to become either.


	23. New Job, New Me...And Six Weeks Doesn't SEEM Like That Long...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I earn my keep. Outside the bedroom, like a good fucking normal human being. 
> 
> And I keep sharing baby facts with Negan...Who knew that he didn't know about the waiting period after childbirth? Who knew he'd take it as a fucking challenge?

My first day, at Negan’s side, during the meeting with his outpost leaders turned out to be less nerve wracking than I’d expected. I had a few theories about why that was, but first let me go through my impressions of the people he chose to act in his stead at each outpost.

For the most part, they were ambitious, but loyal. Each one had their own way of dealing with things, I could tell that even before they started offering their monthly reports.

Gavin, who I knew was in charge of dealing with the Kingdom, was laid back. He wanted things to run smoothly, and I could see how Jared would go against his careful grain of cooperation. Jared, I could tell from that first meeting a month ago, was egging for confrontation. He needed it like most people needed air. For the most part, Gavin liked the responsibility that being a leader gave him, but he didn’t want more. He was content.

Simon, the man with a mustache that most seventies porn stars would envy, was ambitious too. He was loyal, to a fault, but everyone had some level of loyalty to Negan. I knew, unlike Gavin, Simon didn’t need an even keel to keep him satisfied. He was fine either way, though he didn’t necessarily have the urge to kill, he wouldn’t shy away from it. He’d convince himself, and hopefully Negan, that every death he carried out or ordered was for the greater good. Aside from his loyalty, he also envied Negan. While I didn’t think he’d make a play for Negan’s role outright, I knew he’d try if he sensed any weakness that would create cracks. As he studied me, I wondered if he were stupid enough to count me as such a weakness. I sure as fuck hoped for his sake he didn’t.

The others, I made note, fell somewhere between the two. Some closer to Simon’s end, the others firmly nearer Gavin’s.

I smiled as Negan introduced me, not just because he was taking the time to do it, but because he also fumbled with just who the fuck I was to him. There’s something immensely hilarious about a man like Negan being tongue tied. And he got me back, because as I mentioned the first day by his side wasn’t nerve wracking, and he made sure that my nerves weren’t what he was fucking with.

As his people gave their reports, Negan’s hand started to creep up my leg under the table. He’d insisted that I sit, not at the spot next to him along the side of the table, but situated my chair beside him at the head. And so, while this one or that prattled on and on about quotas and whatnot and I tried to focus on their gestures, the way they met his eyes and the obvious and less than obvious tells, his fingers took a tour of my bare skin. The dress, I was slowly learning, was a two-fold choice for him. It did make me look both professional and emphasize my place at his side, but it also gave him greater access to me.

I parted my legs and bit my lip as he kept climbing higher. I felt him chuckle when he noticed that I’d given him greater access, but he kept up with the conversation in front of us, and I was trying to keep my own place among it. When his fingers slipped under the lace fabric that I’d been forced to wear, I bit my lip harder, holding back any noise that I’d be tempted to make as his fingertips teased along my dampness. I hadn’t paid attention when we sat down, but he’d apparently removed his gloves, the calloused pads were making it incredibly difficult for me to remember why I was in the room. That we had an audience never fully left me, but as I swallowed hard against a building whimper, I felt some tension leave when he dismissed everyone.

Thank fucking God, I thought, groaning as Simon held back to have a private moment with his fearful leader. Negan smiled at me, not ordering Simon away, but keeping up his torture under the table while carrying on a fucking full and detailed conversation with Mr. Porn Stache. I closed my legs around his hand and arm, hoping that would stop him from his rubbing and the building fucking climb he had my body doing, but that was a futile hope. His long finger slid inside me and I closed my eyes at the penetration. Jesus, he had to feel just how fucking wet I was, from being in the room with all those fucking people while he played me like a violin and now, now he knew that I really did fucking enjoy the thrill of the possibility of being caught.

I barely noticed when Simon finally left. I didn’t pay attention to the door being closed behind him. The only thing I was focused on was Negan’s finger and hand, bringing me higher and higher. “Callie, princess, you’re fucking soaked.” His finger was moving harder inside of me, and I found myself finally able to move with it. Fuck. I felt myself clenching around his finger, and then it was gone. Shit, really?

I watched, my lust full blown as he sucked the taste of me from his finger. I was panting, and fucking thankful we were completely alone now. I wrapped my arm around his neck, bringing his face to mine so I could kiss him, let him share what he’d tasted of me on his mouth, and he pulled me from my chair and lifted me onto the table in front of him. And then, as he’d promised twice this morning, he spread me out before him and feasted.

Lunch was a new experience. Instead of having something brought to us in the conference room or going back up to our rooms, we slummed it and ate in the cafeteria. Negan went to the kitchen and made our plates himself, and then, in full fucking view of the entire Sanctuary, he served me. I would have laughed, but the shock on every single fucking person’s face told me that they’d never seen him behave like this with ANYONE. And if the sour look on Frankie’s face proved anything, then it proved that some of our audience didn’t just fucking hate it, but they found me lacking of the honor.

I ignored them. Every single one, because Negan was smiling at me and it was easy to fall into our pattern of eating and chatting. Even with an audience watching us, even with eyes burning into both of us. It didn’t matter. They didn’t matter. We did.

“Aside from huge ass heads,” Negan said, picking up his fork. “What else do you have to look forward to?”

I did laugh then. “Oh, honey, I think you used the wrong word there. WE have a lot of shit to look forward to. Like the fact that after that huge fucking head comes out, we have six full weeks of celibacy to look forward to.”

He stopped eating. His mouth was gaped open. And the look of utter disbelief was Kodak worthy. Yep, the best way to stop Negan’s bullshit was to let him know that blueballs may become his constant fucking accessory for the weeks following his demon seed’s birth. “You’re joking.” He scoffed, picking up his fork and putting his mind at ease with a certainty that I had to be fucking kidding.

“Ask Dr. Carson.” I said, casually eating my way through my own lunch.

I could hear him swallow. Hard. Poor guy, I ALMOST felt sorry for him. Almost, because I could still see his hands trying to show me just how fucking huge thirteen inches was. Pain was going to be going around with the birth of this baby, guess we’d have to see who bounced back from it first.

My checkup with the doctor went quickly. Even with Tanya glaring from the corner. Jesus, it was like throwing a rock and hitting another chick your boyfriend banged in high school. Except here they were grown ass women, and they seemed more angsty.

Doc was happy with the way I was progressing. And he took note of the fact that I’d been born prematurely. He affirmed that I was taking my prenatal vitamins and that Negan had me following the diet that he’d recommended, then he dismissed the two of us. After, I have to mention, Negan got confirmation that I hadn’t been fucking teasing about the six weeks waiting period.

“She’ll have to heal, Negan,” the doctor explained, trying to fight his own smile. “After all-”

“Thirteen inches,” I offered in a singsong voice. I giggled at Negan’s glare. Too bad, buddy.

We made our way back to our rooms, and once inside, he pulled me to him and claimed my mouth more hungrily than he ever had. Pulling away with a question on my lips, he practically growled at me. “Six fucking weeks?” His eyes were so dark that I could barely see his pupils. “If I have six fucking weeks without being inside of you ahead of me, then I plan on having you every spare fucking moment until then.” If that was a challenge, then I was more than willing to accept. I held on to the lapels of his jacket, licking into his mouth to show I was game. And then, he and I made good on the promise or threat. Over and over.


	24. Let Them Eat...And Choke on It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three months had gone by in a flash. It was a flash filled with Negan proving to me just how much he wanted me, body and soul, but a flash nonetheless. 
> 
> And that type of focus can create an illusion of safety. Of being invincible together. But we were only human. With human frailties and with human mortality. It was bound to happen. Someone would be jealous enough to make the attempt, but what reaction would I have. What would Negan do if someone pushed the wrong button a rule that he hadn't felt the need to order obeyed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: I had to do it. I had to clear the path, and I had to assume that at least one wife would hate Callie enough to make a play. 
> 
> There's death in this chapter. It's not graphic, not really, but it's there. So count this as your head's up.

If I’d assumed that Negan and me plus that damn bed of his would make us fucking husks, literally, then I’d not considered the challenge he’d take upon knowing that we’d be forced into celibacy for six weeks after Satan’s eagerly awaited grandchild showed their tiny being. And damn it if he didn’t take that fucking challenge seriously.

Every moment that wasn’t spent apart, was spent enjoying one another to the fullest extent of our abilities. And I have to say, I’d never tapped into half of my abilities. There wasn’t a surface, horizontal or vertical in our rooms that was safe. The bookshelves, how many books tumbled to the floor as he pounded into me, causing noises that I’d never thought I could make flow from me? Or that fucking table we ate at, would it ever look the same to me after being bent over it, Negan’s teeth marking my shoulder as we came together one of the only times he could stand to not have me facing him? The bed, of course, the walls, most definitely, the shower, the bathtub, the floor, every inch that we could be pressed into, we were.

And, as surprising as his ardor was at the news, my return of it nearly took his fucking breath away. That I was as insatiable for him, that I wanted him as badly, this we could show. But those three little words, the ones we kept tap dancing around, those were still elusive. Physical love, that was simple. Letting Negan know that he owned me, bodily, was as easy as breathing or kissing him. But that he owned my heart? Well, that wasn’t easy for me, and it was made more difficult by his inability to use the words himself.

We made love, so many ways, places, and I could swear that even with multiple showers and baths, we carried the scent of one another around like the strongest colognes in the world. That as surely as him branding me, every person knew for certain that I belonged to him, and he to me.

It came in as a horrible shock, that our bubble of feelings and adoration, didn’t keep us safe. It happened as the third month of my residence in the Sanctuary passed. Negan was getting the tray holding our dinner from the delivery guy, as I handed back the dishes from lunch, when I noticed the puzzled look on his face. I joined him as he sat it down on the table and let my own focus follow his. The tray looked practically normal. I say practically, because whomever had made it, nearly got it right. The plates held nearly the same thing, but not quite.

Negan, since that first meal, had ALWAYS had the exact same meal as I did. I still hadn’t asked if the rest of the community did as well, still too cowardly to hear if it was so. Yet this meal had subtle differences. An added garnish to his plate, which we knew was meant for him because of the tiny tag attached, some extra grape tomatoes to the small salad. And I knew that he felt the same chill as I felt. This was wrong. So horribly wrong.

I saw him swallow hard and his fist clench. “Do you think it’s yours that’s poisoned, or mine?” He growled, meeting my eyes.

“Both,” I whispered, feeling completely certain. “Whoever made the plates, they’d know that if I wanted something different from your plate, you’d give it to me, or if you saw that yours had more, then you’d switch.” I closed my eyes and fought down the urge to throw up. “So they had to make sure, and that means, they’re both poisoned.”

He took a deep breath, and sat down on the chair I usually took. Pulling me onto his lap, he kissed my forehead. “They’re fucking dead. Whoever they are.” My heart was pounding so hard that I knew he could feel it, if not hear it. “Why would someone do this?”

“Frankie,” I answered, knowing immediately. “She’s being forced to work in the kitchens, so she’d have access.” As for the poison, I couldn’t know, because there was no way to know what she’d used.

He nodded, his hand rubbing my back, my bump was starting to show and his other came up to cup it. “Tanya works for the good doctor,” he added, thinking along the same lines as me. “She looks about as fucking happy as-” he tried to swallow back another growl. “Come on,” he put me on my feet in front of him. “Let’s go give the Sanctuary a show.”

Before we left, I made him take away all signs that the meals weren’t identical. Using a napkin, since we weren’t sure what they’d doused our food with, he tossed the garnish and the extra ‘treats’ in the trash, and took up the tray. And I picked up Lucille, and we made our way to the kitchen after he’d asked Arat to gather everyone in the cafeteria, especially Frankie and Tanya.

Downstairs, the group of Negan’s people were waiting. I saw the redhead and the doctor’s assistant waiting as well, in front of the crowd, but looking unconcerned. It was a good front, but I could see the fear in their eyes, they knew what was coming. Or they thought they did.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Negan’s voice rumbled as they all hit their knees. “Get up, and listen very fucking closely.” He sat the tray down on the table in the center of the masses, and took Lucille carefully from me. Propping her over his shoulder, which for once wasn’t encased in leather, since we’d been dressed for dinner alone, he glanced around the room. “Why do rules exist? Because without rules, the world is fucking chaos.” He kept his eyes moving, but every now and then he’d touch me. My arm, my hand, just letting me know that he was with me. “And punishment? That’s the consequence for breaking the fucking rules.” He sighed, and Lucille came off his shoulder and he handed her back to me. “Now some rules are so fucking obvious they shouldn’t fucking have to be explained, but I guess I fucking thought too highly of you all.” I watched as he motioned to Arat and Laura, who’d apparently been brought up to speed by Arat about Negan’s request for his former wives’ presence. Arat grabbed Frankie’s arm, and Laura took Tanya’s and ushered them forward. “I gave these two women the fucking world. I gave them the fucking keys to the fucking kingdom. And when I found the ONE fucking woman who could give me EVERY single fucking thing I could ever want, I gave them a new purpose.” He was glaring at them, as I held Lucille casually. I could see their eyes flicker from him to me and then to the bat. "Callie could have asked for you both to be fucking exiled. She could have insisted that I toss you out and let you TRY to fucking survive out there. She was benevolent, she was kind." I was thinking that I hadn't asked because I hadn't considered it, but OK, make me sound merciful. "And the two of you let your fucking envy overrule your fucking brains."

“Unwritten rules aren’t supposed to NEED to be written, but fuck if I’m not being forced to fucking ANNOUNCE one.” He took my hand and held it up, kissing my knuckles. “This woman, Callie Grimes, is your fucking Queen. She’s carrying my fucking child inside of her, right now, and that means that she’s doubly fucking protected. You touch her, you die. You look at her anyway that I deem fucked up, you die. And-” he refocused on the two women standing before him with Arat and Laura glaring at the back of their heads. “If you TRY to fucking poison her, you will fucking die.”

“Arat, Laura, help the ladies take a seat, it’s dinner time.” And I watched as the two women who apparently plotted to fucking kill me, my baby, and Negan sit like the fucking chairs were on fire. “Take up those forks, and eat. Every single fucking bite.” A hush was all around us, but Frankie looked up at him with defiance in her eyes. “EAT!” He demanded, and she closed her mouth on whatever rebuttal she had planned. The two of them picked up their forks, and ate. It didn’t take long. The plates weren’t even halfway gone when their mouths began to foam, and not long after that they were choking, and then, as we all watched, first Tanya, then Frankie died.

Negan pulled me to him and kissed my forehead. “Arat, Laura, add these two the our outer wall security, at least now they’re fucking useful.” He pulled away and looked around him at the still gathered population of the Sanctuary. “They didn’t fucking care if they killed me, do you see that? The proof? Let this lesson stand. Who are you?”

The echoes of voices saying “Negan” rushed over me. And I felt the ease of breathing again. Without fear, at least for now.

The crowd dispersed, and Negan tugged me toward the kitchen. Food, we still needed to fucking eat. As he gathered together something that would constitute dinner, I hopped up onto a counter. Lucille lay next to me, and I watched him move as casually around this industrial sized kitchen as he had the one back in Alexandria. We ate at the counter, he situated himself between my legs and fed me bites as he ate too.

“I think I want to expand our apartment,” he said, plopping a strawberry into my mouth. “We’re gonna need more room when they arrive, and I think I want us to have a kitchen up there.” I nodded as I chewed. “I’ll get some people on it, tomorrow.”

We ate through our fresh and raw dinner, the tension of nearly being assassinated rolling off of us as we enjoyed one another’s company. “Do you even have the appliances to make a kitchen up there?” I asked, as he helped me down from my perch.

He took Lucille into one hand and my hand in his other as we walked out of the room. Arat and Laura were the only two waiting in the main room. They followed us as we made our way back to our rooms and Negan was telling me just how easily he could furnish a kitchen, a nursery, and any other fucking rooms I wanted to add to our floor.

As we walked back into our rooms, Arat and Laura took position on either side of our door. Great, I thought, door guarding was making a fucking comeback. And fuck, he’d probably become more unbearably protective now. But, that tiny overthinking part of my brain chimed in, after that fucking scare would that be suck a bad fucking thing?

I was right and wrong about Negan’s reaction after the attempt on our lives. He did decide that door guards were a temporary necessity, but he also made sure that I knew that I still wasn’t a prisoner in our rooms. And, as he woke me the next morning to remind me of our celibacy preparations, I realized that it was a small price to pay. For safety. For peace of mind.


	25. Another Interlude..Because I Fucking Can

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Figured that I should update the photographic inspiration for those chapters in between the last one and here...

To be fair, Negan has great taste, even if he has some pretty fascinating fantasies. Here's the "close enough to a school girl to make Callie wonder" dress:

How does Negan's Partner in Life (See was that so hard?) wear to her first day on the job? Something along the lines of this, only a wrap dress instead, and clearly it's functional should ass need kicking:

What does a girl wear to watch her enemies choke to death? Something a little like this, sans the purse, shades, and belt:

And a bit of a sneak peek...FAR into the future:


	26. When A Negotiation Goes WAY Wrong...OR Where the Fuck Did You Find a Wedding Dress During the Apocalypse?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ding Dong two witches are dead...And our apartment is growing as fast as my bump. 
> 
> Why can't Negan be content with that? With the fullness of what we have, why press our luck? Or make my blood pressure spike from hysteria? 
> 
> A visit to Alexandria finally, I thought at worse it would be a parade of proof that the hostage was being kept alive and well-fed, but NO, of course it wasn't that simple. I knew he'd tease Dad about the baby. I knew that there'd be some awkwardness. But this? This I thought I'd checkmated down the drain.

You’d think that with wicked ex one and wicked ex two growling and snarling undead at the gates would have slowed Negan down a bit. It would have made him consider how to proceed with our relationship. He had so much on his fucking plate.

He was leader of the Sanctuary, full of my review of the outpost leaders in hand. He had a troop of people remodeling our floor to make it a full apartment with a kitchen, dining room, and nursery to start with. He had his day to day drudgery. He had his own personal challenge to bulk up his daily intake of me, to save for that six week dry spell that would be coming on us in no time.

And yet, as my bump grew, the months passing like blinks, he had a new mission. “How to get Callie to agree to marry me?” became Mission Number ONE.

It started simply. Days after watching Frankie and Tanya eat what they sowed, the subtle touching of Mom’s rings became more pronounced. That question I kept seeing flash across his face barely holding back.

Then, as I came through my fourth month of pregnancy, he’d start to ask leading questions during meals. Had I ever had a dream wedding in my head? If I could have any type of ceremony what type would I choose? Was I against all marriage, or just to him?

OK that last question wasn’t leading it was abrupt. And I’d sat across from him, my mouth wide, and the bite I had hovering in front forgotten. The fuck? “What?” I asked, forcing my mouth to close, and setting my fork down.

“Are you against the idea of marriage?” He asked, bleeding patience with me. “Or are you only against the idea of marrying me?” His voice was light, but the question was anything but.

I blinked at him. What the literal hell? My bump was growing by the minute. My emotions were all the fuck over the place from the little demon’s control over my hormones, and he’s tossing this at me NOW?

“I don’t want to have this conversation now, Negan.” I bit out, pushing my plate away. “Since your little seed keeps fucking nudging me in my kidney, consider this time for one of my MANY potty breaks.” I stood and practically ran to our bathroom. Locking myself inside, I took a moment to pee, because yes, that is my reality. And then I stared in the mirror as I washed my hands. Why now? What the fuck would possess him to start this shit now, when I look like a blimp being inflated?

I heard his knock on the door. Of course he’d follow me. The man was becoming a very large and very solid shadow. If I so much as hissed because baby Satan moved suddenly, he was at my side and trying to find the source of discomfort. I shook my head and stared into my own eyes. You can do this, just keep the logic of NOT dealing with it front and center. Negan could be talked down from things. Right? Sure.

I opened the door and gave him a small smile. “Sorry, your kid really fucking likes my kidney.” He reached his hand down and curved over the top of my bump. I knew he wanted to feel the movement, but we also knew that it could take another month.

“Knock it off, little one.” He said, kneeling in front of me and kissing the growing bump. “Daddy wants Mommy to have a break, we’ve got important shit to discuss.” His hands were cupping the bulge, and I knew he was hoping against hope of feeling them move. No dice, Negan, not yet anyway.

He stood up and kissed my lips gently. “Can we talk like grown ups now?” He asked, and I rolled my eyes. “Callie, why won’t you just fucking answer the question?”

I licked my lips and moved to sit on our bed. “Because I don’t fucking know.” I groaned, and lay back, my head only reaching nearly the middle. “I don’t know if I hate the idea of marriage completely or if I equate marrying YOU with them.” I didn’t elaborate and he didn’t need me to. The wives, even with two dead and the others content with their mates, they still hovered over me.

“I never married them, Callie.” I snorted. Remembering how Glenn ‘married’ Maggie. “I gave them a fucking ring and told them what was expected from them. That’s not marriage.”

I raised an eyebrow at him as he lay down beside me and turned so we were facing one another. “We’re in the middle of the end of the fucking world, Negan. What the fuck truly constituted marriage now?” I sighed and settled into the fucking softness of our bed. “And if that’s not clear, then why does it fucking matter so much to you?”

He groaned too. “Because, Callie, I want to marry you.” I gave another eye roll. “I do. I want you to be my fucking wife, my real fucking wife. My partner.” And I heard it, even if he didn’t say it, ‘like Lucille was’. Sure, that’s going to be a bargaining point. Look at how well you treated her.

“And how, my brilliant Negan, would OUR marriage be so fucking different from the others?” I wanted to know, damn my curiosity.

His hand reached out so his fingers could trace my face. “We could have a wedding. A real wedding.” Ah, those questions about my dream wedding started to make sense. “Name it, and I’ll make it happen.” Shit, that was fucking generous.

I squinted at him as his fingers kept lining my features. What did I know about Negan that would make this promise of a dream wedding stay at bay? “If I wanted to have it back in Alexandria?” First strike, having it on Dad’s turf.

He didn’t blink. “Done.” Fuck.

OK, what else goes into a wedding. I strike the idea of a dress, my huge ass decked in white, that would make me look like a parade float. Nope. Didn’t he tell one of the others about Gabe creeping him out? HA, checkmate. “I’d want, IF I got married, to have a REAL minister perform it. Because then it’s REAL, not just for show.”

He listened and considered it. Clearly pushing Gabe far out of his fucking mind. “Where would this minister come from? I don’t-” And then it dawned on him. I could see the shiver run up his spin at the mere thought of Gabe’s smile and collar. He swallowed, hard, and I waited. “You fight dirty, baby girl.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Negan.” I replied, leaning into his hand. “You asked me what it would take to consider marrying you, and I told you. I would want a REAL wedding that ended in a REAL marriage. That takes a minister, fully ordained and in the cloth.” I shrugged, looking supremely unconcerned.

The questions stopped. The remodel rolled on. And Negan spent more time working, which irritated both of us. Every time he came back to our rooms, he looked worn out, and I had to stop from asking him what was wrong. A part of me was terrified it was bad news. That Maggie had started the retaliation that I feared would come. And the other part of me was following doctor’s orders.

My blood pressure was slightly elevated. I was warned to keep as much stress out of my mind as possible, so I don't borrow trouble. Instead, I’d wrap myself around Negan and try to divert both of our worries away.

Then, as the final touches were being finished on the expanded apartment, Negan came home whistling and grinning. This was unexpected, but fully welcome. As was his news that we’d be visiting Alexandria. Finally, I thought, glancing down at my five month bump. I had worried that Dad wouldn’t know that he had a grand-baby until he could fucking hold it.

I should have questioned the timing. I should have seen the glint in Negan’s eyes. I should have added so much shit together, but I didn’t. And I blame hormones. I blame hormones and pregnancy brain and a hundred other things for the reason I didn’t add all the parts together and instead was blindsided by what waited for me. How else would you explain it?

We went a week after he’d made the announcement. He reasoned that he had to make sure security was ready. That we had more to worry about than just the two of us now, and I agreed. Sitting beside him, same truck going in a different direction, we set off early in the morning. I’d worn comfortable clothes, still unsure of how long it would take to get there and unwilling to be uncomfortable in the name of looking cute. I even held back a glare as he buckled me in. And with a quick confirmation over the walkie that we were ready, we were off.

Negan kept me occupied. Telling me about how simple it had been to find a crib for our little demon. Smiling as he mentioned a cache of baby clothes a run had found, and I found myself napping as I listened to his voice. By the time we arrived, I’d slept most of the way and was happy to find we’d run into no trouble.

Helping me from the truck on the outside of the gate of what once was my home, I heard the guard on duty gasp. Yeah, no shit, I thought, I was huge. Negan’s hand settled on my lower back, where most of my weight seemed to settle and give me pain, and we approached the opening they’d created for us.

Dad was waiting on the other side, and his eyes widened at my very obvious state. I waited, in silence for Negan to throw his first volley. And I wasn’t disappointed.

“Would you fucking look at that, Papa Rick?” I could hear his dimples come out. A whistle and then, “Did ya ever fucking imagine that my fucking baby would be your fucking grand-baby? I have to wonder, whose genes do you think will be dominant? I'm laying odds on mine.”

I shook my head and pulled away from my erstwhile man. Hugging Dad and fighting a grin at Negan’s running commentary. “Hey, Dad.” I rolled my eyes, and smiled up at him. “Guess I can’t hide this anymore, huh?” I pointed at the bump nestled between us and he grinned down at me.

“Guess not, sweetheart.” He kissed my forehead and I felt him smile despite Negan’s teasing.

Michonne was laughing and hugged me next. “I told you so.” She whispered, running her hand over my bump. “Congratulations, honey.”

I was shaking my head so much I must look like a wet dog. “Carl,” I held open my arms and my brother, holding my little sister pressed between them. “I missed you.” My head was on his shoulder and I was including Judith in that sentiment. Kissing her head and his cheek I felt a tear fall. “Shit, hormones.” I pulled away, and brushed it away.

We ended up in Dad’s house, talking over one another, Negan included in the mix. I found out he kept the promise for beds. I learned that Alexandria was flush with comfort and contentment without an axe swinging over its head. And then, Gabe walked in and I was informed that our visit was going to include something I wasn’t fucking prepared for-my fucking wedding.

Michonne had taken me upstairs after Gabe came in to “finalize the ceremony plans” with Negan. I’d grown pale. And she grew concerned.

In my old room, now housing a bed that I would have killed for before leaving for the Sanctuary, a dress hung from a curtain rod and fluttered in the breeze of the open window. White, of course it would be fucking white, and shorter than I’d expected for him to settle on. If I had EXPECTED him to get me a dress, that was. Dear fucking God, I felt like hyperventilating. When the fuck did he plan it? How? And was it happening TODAY? And where the fuck had he found a wedding dress that would hold these mountains of boobs and my bump during a fucking apocalypse?

“Tomorrow.” Michonne answered me, watching I’m sure, my face turn various fucking shades of green. “You don’t want this?” She was worried, duh. My reaction didn’t fucking scream blushing happy bride.

I thought about it. Did I want it? Did I NOT want it? I considered life without Negan and recoiled from the thought of it. OK, so come on Callie, what does that fucking tell you? That you can’t live without him. OK. What do I hate most about the idea of marrying him? The plural wives, obviously. But they were gone, some in more permanent a way than others. And he wanted to marry me in the same way he’d been married to Lucille. Who he cheated on, while she lay dying, literally. But he gave them up for ME. Shit was I arguing with myself.

Michonne was still studying me. “Do you love him?” She asked like it was that simple.

“Yes.” I could barely hear myself.

She nodded, her theory confirmed. “He loves you, too, you know?” I focused on her, not the dress, not the hysteria bubbling inside me. “He contacted Rick awhile back. They put this together, with some help from the rest of us.” Ah, that explained a lot. “Gabe, well that was a final request, actually, and surprised all of us, no one more than Gabe himself. He swore that Negan thought he was creepy.”

I gave a chuckle. “Yeah, that he does.” I sighed. Shit. I was going to do it. I was going to marry him. He’d countered every move. And he proved he wanted it badly enough to work for it. Fuck.

“You have an entire night, alone, to work it out.” She offered, wrapping me in her arms. “Plus, you have some vows to write.” Fucking hell. I felt her fighting a bout of laughter. Of course she'd find this shit hilarious.

We had dinner together, all of my family and Negan. I found out that he was commandeering Spencer’s house. Foregoing, he assured me, his stag party. Like this wasn’t the most surreal fucking moment in my whole damn life. And as darkness fell, he kissed me sweetly and offered the corniest parting I’d ever heard him give.

“I’ll meet you at the altar.” He was grinning so fucking hard I thought his face would crack.

Playing along, with a roll of my eyes, I gave the standard, “I’ll be the one in white.”

His laughter echoed as he walked away. And felt my nerves racket up a notch. Fuck. I was getting married.


	27. Here Comes the Bride...And Those Vows...And the Speeches...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day... My wedding day. To Negan. In Alexandria. 
> 
> I'm still working through the surreal feeling of this entire fucking thing, but fucked if Negan isn't still surprising me. The tears are clearly because of hormones. Honestly. Pass me a fucking tissue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full warning: This chapter wasn't supposed to come so fucking soon, but when it comes and takes root, it has to be written. 
> 
> That dance around their feelings that Negan and Callie were fucking professionals in, well it's over.
> 
> I wasn't kidding about the tissues..there's plenty of sappiness, but there's also a fair share of Negan and Callie, so buckle up.

I spent time with my family. Playing with Judith, listening as Carl updated me on the gossip of our little community. I smiled as I watched Michonne and Dad curled into each other, and I listened when Dad told me that he’d been surprised that Negan had agreed to have our wedding in Alexandria.

I had to bite back the fact that it had been part of a delaying tactic gone wrong. I was burning with curiosity, this time about what my wedding was going to look like. What had they planned and prepared? I hadn’t gotten to look around outside before darkness fell. They’d kept me on the path from the gate to Dad’s house.

Now I wondered. Just what did Negan think our wedding should look like? Since Michonne had mentioned I needed to write my vows, I suspected that Gabe may be officiating, but it was still going to be Negan’s show. I wondered what his would sound like? How many fucks can one man put in his wedding vows before they don’t count?

No one would clue me in. Sworn to secrecy, or just torturing the pregnant woman I’d never know. And so, after another long hug from everyone, I was sent off to my former bedroom. Given a stack of blank paper and a pen, and told that Negan had made sure I had extra clothes and underwear, that they were in my former dresser waiting.

I took a minute to shower, after grabbing some comfy clothes from what he’d packed for me. Getting the sweat and sleep washed away, I returned to my room and sat down on the new bed. It wasn’t nearly as decadent as ours back home, and I smiled when I realized that the Sanctuary was my home now. Negan was my home.

And so, with that thought in mind, I put the pen to the blank paper and started to write out my vows.

I slept better than I thought I would once I was finished. Waking up the next day, unsure of where I was for a beat since the light came from the wrong direction and the bed felt wrong. My mind played catch up, and my dress was still swaying in the breeze from the crack in the window. I had to make a mad dash to the bathroom, baby demon reminding me of who was in charge, and then I came back to my room and thought about what today would mean.

Mom’s rings were still around my neck, and I unclasped the chain and pulled it off. I held up her wedding set, letting the sun bounce off of the stones and cast rainbows on the wall. Mom wouldn’t have imagined Negan for me, but he met her requirements for putting her rings on my finger. I wondered who was our ring bearer. Was Judith our flower girl? Did Michonne know that I would have no one save her stand by my side as my maid of honor?

Did Negan pick a best man? Would our wedding have all the little touches that I hadn’t seen since years before the world changed over?  
Michonne and Dad knocked on my door as I sat thinking about the day ahead. Calling out a welcome, they entered with a glass of juice in hand. “Morning, sweetheart,” Dad offered, handing me the glass and kissing my forehead. “Today’s the day, huh?”

I shook my head before taking a drink. “Unbelievable, isn’t it?”

Michonne and Dad kept me company, offering me breakfast, and giving me a better idea of what the day would entail. A day of beauty for Michonne, Judith, and me. Dad and the boys were putting the finishing touches on everything, and I was warned to stay inside. Great, I thought, caged again.

And so, my wedding day played out as one may have before the dead rose and started biting. I was bathed, pampered, plucked, and prepared. My hair was braided down my shoulder and twisted with fresh flowers, honeysuckle and roses. Negan had provided underwear fit for a blushing bride that was home to a five month fetus, pretty and yet also functional.

Michonne had a gorgeous dress of wine colored lace, which looked spectacular against her skin tone. We added ribbons to her hair, creating a vision that would rival my own. And my baby sister had a tiny dress of the same color, flaring out over her pudgy little legs. As our flower girl, she would be rolled along in front of me in a little wagon, and Michonne giggled telling me she’d practiced her flower toss.

The time came, as the sun was full overhead, for my dress to come down over my head and with a glance in the mirror I knew I was as ready as I ever would be. Handed a bouquet that matched the flowers in my hair, I stepped out onto the porch where I first laid eyes on Negan and met my dad.

The rest was a blur. The walk to the gazebo where Gabe and Negan waited. Giving Mom’s rings to Carl when Dad told me he was indeed the ring bearer. The flowers match mine and seemly everywhere. The music that seemed to come from everywhere. And there he was. He had ditched his usual uniform and dressed in a button down black shirt and black trousers, I felt my mouth go completely dry. Negan waiting at the altar, for me.

The only parts that are clear as a bell was hearing his vows to me, coming out of the mouth I loved, in that voice that melted me, they’d be burned into my memory forever. Negan took my hand as I handed my bouquet to Michonne, and raised it to his lips and brushed a kiss on my knuckles.

“When I first walked through the gates here, I never expected to find you. The one person in this entire world that would change everything I thought I knew about myself. I was sure that I didn’t NEED to have any emotional connections, not now, not here, not anymore. And then, I saw you sitting right over there,” I followed his finger pointing to Dad’s house. “And every fucking part of my life changed.”

“You have held me in the palm of your hand from the first moment you spoke. The way you weren’t intimidated by me. The way you wouldn’t cower, or bow. The way you held me accountable for every poor fucking decision I made here, or anywhere. You changed me for the better.” His eyes were locked on mine and I could completely forget our audience as he spoke.

“I would have handed you everything I own, everything I hold within my power, for nothing more than the promise that you’d consider being with me. And when we found out that you have my baby growing strong inside of you, that you were giving me something that I never hoped to dream of, your power increased over me. And yet, you never once abused it. Never once pushed for more than you thought I’d concede. Never once did you press for more than you thought I’d be comfortable giving you.” I smiled up at him, feeling the tears burning behind my eyelids.

“And so, today, in front of God and every fucking one, I will finally say something that I’ve held back. For too fucking long. I love you, Callie Grimes. I will love you until my heart stops beating. I will love you until we are finally ready to fucking leave this world behind, and I hope to God that we’re together until the very end, that we take our final breaths together, because whether I end up in Hell or Heaven, I don’t want to go without you beside me.” The tears that were threatening became a reality, running down my cheeks as I made no noise.

“Since these are our vows to one another, let me add this: I will promise to love, honor, and give you every part of me. AND I promise to attend to every fucking need you have,” he leaned in to stage whisper to me, “especially that thing I do with my tongue that you like so fucking much.”

I laughed through my tears. Of course, it wouldn’t be Negan if he didn’t say something inappropriate. I looked up at him and whispered, “You ass.” swiping the tears away, I kept his hand in mine, as I continued, “I never expected to love you. Yet here we are. I never expected that YOU would be the man that would make mornings worth facing. Yet here we are. I never expected that I’d find comfort and safety in your arms. Yet here we are. I never once thought that I’d be excited to become a mother, to YOUR child. Yet here we are.” His eyes were still on mine as I kept going. Finally saying everything I’d held back.

“The first time you walked through those gates, I made a choice. It was a choice that would change both of us, forever. I could have gone inside and waited with Judith. Hidden, as I’m more than certain Dad expected and wanted me to. I didn’t. My insatiable need to compare who you were versus what I’d been told you were, overrode logic and reasoning. Meeting you, combating your confidence with my impressive vocabulary,”the chuckles from our audience matched the twinkle in his eyes, “and fighting against the pull of your overwhelming magnetism,” more laughter and his dimples came out to play. “Going so far as scarring myself for life,” I held up my hand to show those fucking prong marks. “None of that prepared me for loving you.”

“You take my breath away, Negan. Every single time your eyes meet mine, I feel it. The very breath pulling from me. Every time your skin touches mine, it goes. And there’s a saying, “Life is not measured by the amount of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.” If that’s true, then my life began when I met you. And it will end when we take our last breath together. Because if I agree with anything you’ve ever said, then your feeling about the afterlife without me, is how I feel about it without you. If we can’t be here or there together, then I’ll pass.” I smiled up at him as he stared down at me.

“I love you, Negan. I didn’t expect it. I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t even necessarily want it. Yet I do. With every single fiber of my being.” My voice was strong and clear. “Now the promises and vows: Negan, I promise to love, honor, and give you every single part of my being. I will stand beside you, today, tomorrow, and at the very end of time. All that I am, all that I will be, is yours. And,” I mimicked his own stage whisper, “I’ll even let you do that thing with your tongue I like so much.”

The laughter rolled around us, and then our rings were exchanged, his looked vaguely familiar and I knew when his hand took mine and our rings flashed together, that Dad had given Negan his ring. To match Mom’s. And that was the clearest blessing he’d given so far.

The reception was a true party. Tensions gone. Fear escaped. And we sat together happy despite my former worry. Negan had picked Simon to be his best man, and I knew it wasn’t simply because of his place in the hierarchy of the Saviors. Negan had listened to my warnings and applied them to Simon as well as Dwight. As the speeches began, I took note of the ease that Negan sat with, and that Lucille had been gussied up for the occasion as well. Pretty sure he’d even added some baby’s breath to her shiny appearance.

Simon went first. And I took a long drink of water as I waited for a shoe to drop. None did, but I had some cringing. He kept it short and mildly sweet.

“I’m sure that NONE of us expected today to happen. Most especially the bride and groom.” Chuckles came at the reality of those words. “Negan can be brutal, terrifying, and absolutely paralyzing. And yet, we’ve all seen that come completely undone when Callie so much as swoons. He would and has killed for her. And I have absolutely no doubt that she would do the same for him.” Thanks for the reminder, asshole. “And so, please join me in raising your glass to the happy couple. To Negan and Callie!”

A chorus of voices joined him. And then Michonne stood. I smiled at the woman who would be my stepmother. She giggled up at me as her smile shined. “I remember the first time I knew that Negan loved Callie. I’m pretty sure all of you were there, and it happened here. When Callie fainted,” the embarrassment of the memory burned my face and I hid it in Negan’s arm as he grinned. “I thought Negan would tear the house apart to get her inside. The word ‘overreaction’ comes to mind. Then, the following morning, when she scarred her hand so elegantly, it happened again. Negan rushing to her, his fear so palpable that you could almost taste it. And I knew, even if he didn’t, even if he didn’t use the words to say it until today, that he loved her.” She took a breath and kept her smile.

“And Callie, when did I know that you wanted him as much? That you loved him too? Every excuse, every time you tried denying it, every stubborn moment you fought it. Why was that your tell? Because, Callie, that is you in a nutshell. You fight, both for and against, what you love. And boy did you love Negan.” Her head shakes at the very thought.

“I knew you were pregnant before you did. And I knew, even without that added beating heart, that you were done for with him. It wasn’t a matter of if, only when you’d go with him. And so, today we celebrate your love for one another.” She turned her eyes on Negan. “I don’t think a reminder is necessary of what you will face if she’s harmed by you simply because I think you’d rather die yourself than allow harm to come to her. And for that reason, I welcome you, Negan to our family.” She raised her glass and gave another, “Another toast, to the happy couple. To Callie and Negan!”

Again the cheers of a chorus of voices flowed over us. I felt Negan’s lips on my temple and offered him my lips. A kiss and more cheers. Jesus.

Dad came next, and I smiled at him in his own button down shirt. “Who knew we’d be here one day? Not just because my beautiful daughter is marrying Negan, of all people,” more laughter, Jesus, were we that hilarious? “But because I never ever saw her as truly grown up.”

Negan’s snort had me shaking my head.

“Callie will forever be the tiny red haired dynamo that came out screaming and hasn’t stopped voicing her opinion since. The little girl that begged for piggy back rides, that hated sharing her toys with her baby brother, even after she’d outgrown them. The little girl with Popsicle stains around her mouth, a hand on her hip, and a dare for any bully twice her size on the street we lived on. Even now that she has her own little one growing inside her, she will always be my little girl.” I smiled down at Dad, listening to him reminisce about me.

“I never would have guessed that Negan would be the one who’d win her heart. Which was an oversight on my part, because looking back, he would probably be the only one that had the nerve and strength to keep her heart safe. The two of you, what you have, is what Callie’s mother wanted for her. I can see it when you look at one another. The same love and devotion that Lori and I shared, once upon a time.” I smiled at his logic and his acceptance.

“My advice, for both of you, is this: Never take it for granted. This love and passion you have, because nothing is guaranteed in this life. Nothing. But I know that I don’t have to advise either of you on this, because Callie’s seen it firsthand, and I have a feeling that so have you, Negan. Treat each other like best friends, lovers, and partners, and you’ll never have a moment’s regret.” I felt my tears return “I love you, Callie, and while my heart hurts at having to give you away, knowing that you picked someone strong enough to keep you safe and content makes it all the easier. And now, if you’ll all join me in a toast, to my beautiful daughter Callie, and her husband, Negan!”

More cheers, and I was brushing tears away. Negan stood and I was thinking that I wouldn’t survive more of the sappiness he’d shown in his vows. I should have known better. “Wow. Shit. I feel like I gave my all with my fucking vows, babe.” He shot me a shiteating grin. Fuck. “Oh well, here I go. I married Callie today, after having to negotiate for the wedding harder than I have ever fucking negotiated anything in my whole damn life. She drives a hard bargain, and she knows my limits, but she clearly didn’t know how badly I wanted this.” I bit my lip, trying to hold back the laughter that was threatening to escape.

“Our child was conceived here, in Alexandria, in Rick’s laundry room to be specific. Hell, I’m pretty damn sure you guys know the date better than we do, she’s just that fucking LOUD. And so, when Callie made getting married here part of her negotiations that was simple. What’s good enough for Baby Negan, is fucking good enough for Daddy Negan.” For fuck’s sake, was he trying to make me piss myself?

“Then she countered with having Father Creepy, um, Gabe officiate. And while he’s creepy as shit, collar and that fucking smile,” he paused and gave a dramatic shiver, “totally worth dealing with to get here. She never imagined that I’d be able to pull this together, and I’m fucking certain she didn’t think that her daddy there would aid and abet me in the whole shebang, but here we are, princess, here we are.”

I was practically vibrating from holding the giggles back. “I guess the point is this: I finally have the woman I plan on living the rest of my fucking life with, and I plan on spending every fucking minute of it that I don’t have other fucking responsibilities to deal with balls deep in appreciation of her. And I do mean, balls fucking deep.” I was biting my lip so hard I thought I’d start bleeding soon, and he fucking winked at me. Then tossing his drink back in one shot, he threw out the final line and I had to fucking let go, “Can we start the honeymoon now?”


	28. Husband.  Negan Is My Husband.  Maybe If I Keep Saying It OVER and OVER It Will Sink In?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our wedding finished. The reception started. And whether Negan wanted to or not, we were going to play nice and enjoy it. Even if I was just as eager to get him naked and alone. 
> 
> What would happen if the ONE thing Negan wanted more than me to bear the title of "wife" happened to someone else? 
> 
> That's what he gets for torturing Dad so damn much...

Unfortunately for my- husband, shit that sounds so fucking weird, we did not get started on the honeymoon immediately. There was a party going on in our honor, and between food and dancing, my family intended for us to experience a REAL wedding. I like to think that Dad was cockblocking his son-in-law as retaliation for all the digs about the baby, but I’d never tell Negan that.

I danced with Dad, smiling up at him as he told me how beautiful I looked. Sure, like a bloated whale decked in white. We talked about the baby, he wanted to know if Negan had been able to feel them move yet, and as if the baby had suddenly woke up in a snit and wanted to piss Daddy off, it kicked. HARD. And Dad’s face lit up.

“WOW,” Dad practically screamed, all eyes focusing on us. “Baby’s a strong one.” His hand was covering the part of my bump that my tiny terror’s foot had slammed into. I hadn’t even told Dad that Negan hadn’t experienced the very thing that he was drawing attention to, but suddenly the expectant Daddy was at my side.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He growled, eyes on Dad’s hand. “Did my baby just fucking-” He was glaring at my bump like it was housing a traitor and I was holding back laughter. “Fuck.” He kneeled in front of me, ignoring Dad’s hand and started to have an entire fucking conversation with the little demon inside. “Look here, you little shit. Daddy has been waiting fucking MONTHS to feel you move. And you go and give Pappy Rick the fucking privilege? I swear, you’re gonna be fucking grounded before you even leave your fucking mother’s womb. I’d be scared, little one, very very scared, because Daddy’s pissed. At you.”

We had an audience again. Most were doing their damnedest to keep in the obvious laughter that was threatening to overcome them, but a few, like Michonne, weren't willing to hold it back. It bubbled out of her, and Negan turned his glare on her. Far from stopping her laughter, it actually made her laugh harder. And I had to join in. The intensity of his irritation was too fucking much.

“Traitor,” he whispered, to the baby and me, as he rose up and took me into his arms. The music hadn’t stopped, but clearly Dad’s turn was over. He pressed his lips against mine, stopping the giggles effectively. As he spun me around, who fucking knew he could dance, his scowl slowly disappeared.

The first time, since we’d arrived in Alexandria, that we’d been able to be alone-ish. And he was looking at me like it was the first time he’d ever seen me at all. With my arms around his shoulders, and his around my lower back, we stared at one another. Husband and wife. And for the very first time since I’d been told about his plurals, about Lucille, about everything that had made me so resistant to this, I didn’t think about myself in relation to THEM. The ones that came before me. The ones that were gone. Because, looking up at Negan in this light, with Mom’s wedding rings flashing in the sun on my finger, it didn’t feel strange anymore. It just felt right.  
“I meant it, you know?” He said quietly, smiling down at me. “Every fucking word, every fucking vow. All of it.”

“Even the part where you threatened to ground our fetus?” I smirked up at him, still deflecting because that would always be who I was.

He snorted, and lowered his head to kiss me. “Especially that part.” He pulled back and I could see how dark his eyes were turning. “I love you. I should have told you a million times, but-”

I shook my head. “We both should have told one another, but I knew that you did.” He raised an eyebrow. “The words weren’t all that important, Negan, I mean they are, but your actions have always spoken louder.”

He thought about what I was saying, and I could see him thinking of every way he’d shown me. And then, I could almost tell when he started reliving all the ways that I’d shown him. I was pretty sure that only half of his memories were when we were naked and tangled up in one another, because every time I thought about how Negan showed me, we had most of our clothes on.

The song ended, and Carl took Negan’s place with a tap on his shoulder. And Negan didn’t even growl at him or glare. Progress, I tell ya. My baby brother was smiling at me with bemusement.

“Got any names picked out yet?” He asked, glancing down at his niece or nephew’s accommodations. I shook my head, we hadn’t really gotten that far. “My suggestion? Don’t let Negan choose.” I had a fit of giggles when Carl’s eyes landed on Lucille leaning against the table we’d sat at.

As the men in my life took turns spinning me around the dance floor-Aaron, Eric, Eugene, and even Daryl- I watched Negan mingle with the community I’d left behind for him. No one seemed to show the same tension or strain as before, almost seeming to just accept him standing among them. He and Dad were watching me as I danced around the improvised dance floor. And if pregnant women glow, then so do expectant dads and grandpas.

We had gifts to open. And I swear, great minds must think alike, because I had almost a full fucking set of forks by the time all of them were open. Did they match? No. But clearly, everyone truly fucking loved the story of me, the fork, and the stabbing that left me permanently branded. The one that I have to say I loved the most, was from Negan. How he’d managed to find this ornate, almost regal looking fucking fork was beyond me, but find it he had. And as I shook my head, the glare that had been locked on my face after the fifth fucking fork I opened dropped, and I knew that while everyone else had carried the joke too fucking far, Negan wanted me to know that even if I was fucking crazy, I was his type of fucking crazy.

There was a cake, and seeing the topper made questions come bubbling to mind. And then Daryl’s eyes met mine, and I knew exactly who found it, and my laughter rang out. Negan was staring at it like he was trying to decide whether to be pissed or impressed, but finally even he had to admit the hilarity.

My family had done this. Brought this together, with Negan’s help certainly, but they pulled it off. Even if they didn’t necessarily understand Negan and I, how we came together or why it had to be us, they showed us both that they approved. That they supported us. And that, as fucking weird as it may be, Negan was one of us now.

The party ended eventually. Too dark to head back to the Sanctuary, Negan scooped me up after I picked up Lucille, and carried me back to the former Monroe house. Once he had me carried over the threshold safely, he lowered me to the floor, kicked the door shut, and showed me a smile that sent tingles running all over my body. We’d come to what he’d been so eager for since we said ‘I do’. The honeymoon.


	29. The Wedding INTERLUDE:  AKA ANOTHER FUCKING ALBUM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first dress I posted as a "Sneak Peek" wasn't the ACTUAL dress..
> 
> Plus, Negan's gift to Callie (how would she have KNOWN to get him one, people?), Choose a Cake Topper (both I'm showing are viable and hilarious), and...

The roses and honeysuckle bouquet that clearly Michonne designed for Callie...I just can't force myself to see Daryl, Rick, or Carl having a hand in it...even if the image is fucking hilarious.

Daryl: Nah, Rick, yer puttin' too many roses on one side. 

Carl: It looks even to me.

Rick: Son, you're only looking at it from your good side. <as he adds more roses to the other side>

The actual dress that Negan settled on. Why? It's fitted, which accentuates 1) the huge bump that screams "I knocked up Rick's daughter", 2) shows off the boobs that he REALLY hopes Callie gets to keep when it's all over, cause Damn, those are fucking amazing, babe.

When I said "braid" this is more what I meant. Now add roses and honeysuckle like the bouquet, and ta da you've got Callie's hair.

Can't you people just SEE Michonne rocking this? Plus, with that slit, she could still fuck people up. Negan, for instance, if he pisses her off.

I took great glee in thinking that Negan picked this out himself. Judith is like a tiny blonde angel to him, and since he has NO idea that Rick didn't actually create her, there's a small part of him (under massive fucking quantities of teasing) that almost hopes that their baby looks like Judith. Even though he LOVES Callie's red hair and green eyes, there's just a little part that really, really wants the blonde hair, blue eyed angel.

Close as I could get to what Negan's gonna look like waiting at that fucking altar next to Reverend Creepy Pants. The glee, that's pretty fucking assured, but toss off the jacket, and lose the fucking tie. Add in a festive, clean Lucille with some baby's breath, and you've got it.

Come on? What else would Negan give Callie for a wedding gift? Plus, just fucking look at that magnificence? Seriously, this thing had a $270 price tag where I found it. For ONE. And who wouldn't want to remind their very pregnant and reluctant bride of the one moment in time that she appeared more crazy than him?

So, when I started THINKING about their wedding, I had this hilarious idea that when Negan enlists Rick in this plan, that her family goes ALL out trying to pick out shit for the impending nuptials. And I nearly peed my pants thinking about Daryl, doing runs SEARCHING for something that would make Callie laugh and piss Negan off...and so Cake Toppers happened. Either one would do it, I think. So I'll let you all choose your favorite. 


	30. Our 'Honeymoon'...Haven't We Done it So Much That It's Old Hat By Now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He'd done it. He wifed me ALL the way up. And here we were, on our wedding night, alone at last. 
> 
> Except. Well, hadn't we already fucking gone there? A LOT. *Quick glance down at the visual proof growing within me*
> 
> Negan always so full of surprises, but maybe, just maybe I have a surprise of my own.

I shouldn’t have been surprised at how fucking excited Negan would be to unwrap me from the wedding dress he’d picked. I shouldn’t have been shocked at how badly he wanted me, even now as my growing proof of our child was making it damn near impossible for me to see my toes. I mean, Negan ALWAYS wanted me, but our wedding night? After months of having one another any time we felt like it, I’d assumed that it would be just another Tuesday.

The way he looked at me, as more and more of my skin was bared under his hands, was almost like he’d never looked at me before. And maybe he hadn’t. Not this version of me. Not as his wife. His partner. The woman that he’d pledged his love to in front of the world. Or at least our world. 

I’d never felt more beautiful, or more loved. Standing bare before him, watching his eyes trace every single mark, scar, curve and bump of my body, I wished I knew what he was seeing. Through his eyes.

“You really are mine,” he whispered, in awe it seemed. As though he hadn’t owned me from day one. As though he hadn’t held me in his palm like he’d told me I’d held him. “You gonna tell me what I did to deserve you now, Callie?” 

I smiled up at him. Moving closer so I could start unbuttoning his shirt. Sliding it off his shoulders, pulling it off his wrists and letting it fall to the floor. My hands moved to his pants, happy to find only ONE belt. I took the same time and attention he’d given me. Feeling that same awe he must have. This larger than life man, Negan, was mine. Forever. As he kicked off his pants and shoes, since bending down wasn’t a great experience for me, I stepped back and studied him. He was gorgeous. Every single inch of him was a miracle to me. 

“You were you, Negan.” I answered, finally, touching him with my fingertips. His chest, running through the blanket of hair, and up to curl around his neck. “That’s what you did to deserve me. You were you.”

He scooped me back into his arms as our lips met, and carried me to the bed that he’d had replaced. And there, among blankets and pillows, I totally let him do that thing with his tongue that I like. Over and over.

As we were recovering from the start of our honeymoon, facing one another on the bed he’d made sure was returned, I wanted details of how he’d decided some of the plans for our wedding. The location I understood. Gabe I got. But some of the details, well I wanted to know.

“Why the wine color?” I was talking about the dresses that Michonne and Judith wore, but also there had been other touches, in my bouquet, on the cake.  
His hand was still running down my bare skin while the other was cupping my bump. “That’s what color you were wearing the first time we met.” I had to make sure my mouth stayed closed, because I was fucking shocked that he’d remembered. “You stood on that fucking porch, cockily taking me on, and I just fucking came undone. That fucking shirt, dipping JUST fucking low enough to tempt me, but nowhere fucking near enough to what I wanted from that first fucking word out of your lips.” He brushed his against mine to illustrate how much he loved my lips. “That color will ALWAYS remind me of you.” 

Jesus, and they laughed at my mention of his charm. Fucker had romance coming out of his damn pores. “The dress?” I asked, thinking of it tossed on the floor in front of the door.

Negan’s smile was huge, and I nearly gulped. “It showed off all the parts of you that I wanted the fucking world to see were mine.” I listened as he used his hand to illustrate. “This,” his hand joined the other to cup our baby bump. “I wanted EVERYONE to see that you’re fucking RIPE with my baby.” I bit my lip, wanting to giggle, but also wanting him to go on. “And,” his hands slid up my body, until each one cupped one of my very large breasts. “These, fuck, Callie, I’m almost fucking pissed off that our baby is going to have sole ownership of these fucking beauties when they arrive.” He lowered his mouth and kissed the top of each globe, teasing me before he licked down to lavish attention on each peak. “I REALLY fucking hope these stay after our little one gets evicted.” 

I was biting my lip as he kept going. Other questions, fuck Callie, think. “Your ring?” It came out breathless, but fuck if he wasn’t masterful with that mouth of his. 

“Rick surprised the shit out of me when he told me he was gonna give it to us.” His face was still buried in my flesh, but I could hear him. “But fuck if I’ll ever take the damn thing off.” 

I smiled, letting him keep going with getting me ready for another round. And then, as he was just about to move his head down to remind me of ALL the things his tongue did that I loved, as he kissed my bump, it happened. The baby fucking kicked him right in the nose. I felt it and looking down from where he’d propped up my head on pillows, I saw his eyes widen. 

“Shit,” he breathed, pressing his face against the bump again and being rewarded with a shot to the mouth. “I felt it!” I smiled down at him, seeing how fucking excited he was. “That’s right, little one, that’s right. Daddy's here.” 

And suddenly, sex took a backseat, because FINALLY his hell spawn was giving him what he wanted almost as badly as he craved marrying me. Or, I corrected as I watched him kiss, cradle and talk to our baby, more than. 

We left the next afternoon. The goodbyes this time were easier. The promises more readily made for more visits. The happiness truly overshadows any trace of unease. 

Once Negan had helped me back into the truck, buckling me carefully, and joining me we started back home. Home. The Sanctuary really was my home now. I was smiling as I watched out of the windshield, determined to pay attention to the route, when Negan’s hand reached for mine. I gave it willingly, and let our fingers link. 

His eyes didn’t leave the road and we drove straight back, no interruptions, no detours, because both of us wanted nothing more than to go home, to our own rooms, and start this new chapter of our lives. 

Word had spread before we returned, or maybe an announcement was made, because the entire population was waiting when we drove up. Negan was smiling as he helped me down, and as Lucille took her proper place on his shoulder, my hand took its proper place in his, and we walked through the kneeling people with the same casualness he’d shown the first time. Only this time, I was just as unconcerned as he was. 

Our apartment was finished. The kitchen was furnished with a stove, fridge, and our table had been moved to join them. Dishes were in cabinets that had been built fresh. There was a sink and counter tops. Like it had been there the entire time, and we just had to open the door to find it. 

When Negan had bragged about how easily they’d found the nursery furniture, I’d assumed they’d raided empty houses. As I looked around at the pile of boxes, I struggled not to laugh. They weren’t built. None of it. Not the crib. Not the rocking chair. Not the changing table. Not the dresser, which I took note sitting alone to the side. 

Seeing where my attention was focused, he turned me to face him and grinned. “Don’t worry, princess, I’m going to build it. For,” he touched my bump and was rewarded by another kick. “Them. See, they know Daddy’s got this shit covered.” 

“Have you ever assembled furniture before?” I was still taking in the boxes, there was clearly more furniture than just what I’d assumed, and it looked fucking overwhelming. 

“No,” he shook his head and I felt my eyes widen. “Can’t be too fucking hard, right?”

I had to hold back my laughter. He looked so fucking excited and eager. And PROUD. Fuck. He wanted to do it, so goddamn badly, and I COULDN’T mock that. Not even when every fucking fiber within me was wanting to.

“I can’t wait to see it.” I offered instead, and kissed him. Hoping he was right. That it wasn’t going to be difficult. That I would be able to fucking keep from giggling when, no IF it all went to shit.


	31. Another Damn Interlude...AKA What Does the End Stages of Satan's Grand-baby's Incubation Look Like?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes these ideas take root and won't let me go. 
> 
> While laughing HARD at some ideas I had for the progression of Callie's pregnancy, Negan's nesting, and all the utter fucking hilarity that would come at them from all sides, I had to check out what she'd be wearing during the homestretch. What the ideal nursery would look like for her, for him, and the actual reality (which I won't spoil here, not yet). And, dear God, expectation versus reality of that final few weeks and months would do to the two of them.
> 
> Also, I was in my car, listening to Pandora, and I heard a song that I swear would be their fucking soundtrack. If you haven't heard it, then check it out. I've posted a link at the end.

I have to be honest, when Callie walks in to ALL those fucking boxes in the nursery, even though I didn't have her mention it, I have a feeling a few ideas of what Negan would have thought appropriate for his little bundle's nursery would look like. And I let her imagination run WILD:

I'm telling you, Callie would have had flashes of that and held back her own laughter so she wouldn't make a mess of herself.

Meanwhile, Negan, King of the Sanctuary, he'd be thinking more along these lines:  
  


But it's the fucking apocalypse, so I have a feeling expectations vs reality is going to look more like:

And yes, that is mix and match IKEA...do YOU think that anyone would have looted that fucking store during an apocalypse?!

While I'm certain that Negan would turn the world upside down to find Callie anything she wanted, including cute or sexy maternity clothes, Callie's style makes that unnecessary. She's most comfy in leggings and loose fitting tank tops, sneakers, boots, or ballet flats. So at the end of the day, she'd be pretty damn set. Sure, the leggings might be under a little more stress (she feels HUGE, she's tiny, trust me she isn't nearly as big as she feels), they'd work. And when they won't fit OVER the bump, she'd learn to push them UNDER the bump (does this sound like I have experience? Because I totally have experience.).

So these are going to be the types of outfits that Callie wears as their bean grows bigger and bigger:

And if she ever has to go to another meeting with Negan, she'd have some options on the dress side too.

And of course, while Negan is just balls to the wall excited about his beautiful pregnant wife, there's a big piece of him counting down the days until his kid gets evicted and the six weeks of "yeah, let's not" ends, so he can FINALLY see her in those interesting pieces of lingerie she saw in her drawer:

And he may have more than one of THOSE dresses in her closet:

So the countdown to baby Negan has begun. 

Also, here's the song that just sounds like these two dumbasses:

<https://youtu.be/hTiTvOcfIgI>


	32. Cravings, Exhaustion, and a Healthy Dose of RAGE...Or, Hadn't Callie's Pregnancy Been Too Idyllic?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marrying Negan didn't change things for me. I was still growing bigger and bigger by the fucking minute. I was still me. 
> 
> Or was I? I mean, I had this little demon inside of me controlling my every fucking mood swing, so was I me? Or was I slowly turning into the Queen of Hell? Huh, that's fucking weird, I'd been SO certain Negan was Satan's favorite son. Guess it runs in the family name...

Did my life change once I became Negan’s Mrs? Not really. Not openly. He didn’t force our people to kneel for me, not that he didn’t fucking offer the ‘honor’ to me. I’m not entirely sure what look crossed my face when he gave me the option, but seeing his grin grow, it must have been pretty fucking funny.

Laura found the entire situation funnier than I did. Teasing me with “Mrs. Negan” every now and then to see my glare flash at her. I’d found a friend in my head guard, and she got far more leeway with the teasing than anyone else would have dared to try. Friendships blossom as a woman grows to the size of a barge and she has to ask for help every time she wants to get up from a seated or prone position, I tell ya. And Laura was becoming very skilled at craning my ass up from wherever I’d dare to sit.

As the months continued to flicker past, and our little monster continued to grow inside of me, the anticipation grew. Along with my hormonal mood swings. 

I’d given up on the pregnancy book. I’d decided that learning MORE about the horrors that awaited me at the end of this never ending tunnel were better left as a surprise. 

Negan had thrown himself into build a nursery mode. He declared the nursery off limits to me. Promising that as soon as he was finished, I’d be welcome to see the majestic room that would be fit for our little demonic offspring. 

The problem with that edict was this: the date was looming near and I still hadn’t gotten invited inside. That and the CONSTANT fucking noise. Pounding, growling, cussing, and once I even swore I heard him carrying a full blown screaming match inside. I was worried, not only fearing that our baby was going to have to sleep in a damn drawer in our dresser, but also because I couldn’t fucking rest with all the fucking noise. Not a fucking nap to be had, and there were fucking nights that he’d wear my ass out from multiple shaking orgasms, only to leave our bed and start up again. 

I wondered, while he was pounding in the nursery at all hours day and night, who the fuck was running the Sanctuary? 

I shouldn't have worried about that. Laura laughingly told me that he was running the whole damn place from the nursery. Using the walkie, hell having meetings, all while working hard to build the furniture for the baby nightmare. 

One evening, after we’d had a dinner that I’d fixed in our own kitchen, Negan seemed to realize how damn huge I was, how close to show time. I saw something fight across his features, but as fucking exhausted I was by the tiny bit of rest I was getting, I couldn’t fathom what it was. 

“Baby girl,” his voice would always be one of my favorite parts of him, I swear. “Aren’t you supposed to be having weird cravings?” That’s what was flickering inside his mind? The fact that I wasn’t asking for pickles and ice cream?

I shrugged. “Not all women do.” I yawned and stood to collect our empty plates. He rose with me, rubbing that part of my back that was a constant knot. And I leaned into him, the length of me against the front of him. I swear, between the massage he was giving that damn knot, the scent of him, and his heat, I drifted off standing up. 

I woke up in our bed and knew that I had fallen asleep standing up. I was curled into his warmth, his arms wrapped around me, and my head on his chest. I was just cuddling deeper when I realized he wasn’t asleep. Propping my chin on his chest, I could see his eyes on me in the dim light from the bathroom light he’d left on. 

“What are you staring at?” I asked, my voice dry from sleep. His lips curled in a smile, those damn dimples deepening. 

“The mother of my baby.” He answered, his hand coming up to touch my face. “The exhausted mother of my baby.” The pad of his thumb brushed under my eye, touching the dark circles I wore lately. “Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t sleeping?” 

I chuckled. “Because, Negan,” I dropped my head back to his chest, snuggling into his t-shirt. “I didn’t want to stop whatever progress you were making in the nursery.” I heard him inhale. Oh, now you realize you made enough fucking noise to raise the dead. 

And then he chuckled, low and deep, causing something to stir deep inside of me. And I wasn’t talking about our little devil spawn. I felt his lips touch my hair, and I could hear his smile in his voice. “My progress?” Another chuckle. “Sweetheart, I’m not sure progress is the right fucking word.” 

I considered what he was saying. Did that fucking mean that NOTHING was built? That our baby was literally going have to sleep in a fucking dresser drawer? Shit. “Not going well?” I was shocked at how unconcerned I managed to sound. Because I was more than fucking concerned, let me assure you. 

“Nothing makes sense in the fucking instructions.” He said, building momentum as he went. “So I opened a different box, a different fucking piece of the picture, and those fucking instructions made less fucking sense.” I kept my face down, hiding the shock, and the freak out that I felt building. “Which made me open another box-” Dear fucking God, I could see it, the entire fucking nursery wall to wall with pieces of everything with no discernible fucking rhyme or reason. Fuck. “It’s chaotic there. Fucking chaos.” I could hear that it wasn’t exactly something he was proud of, that he was as irritated with himself as I was freaked out by the thought of Baby Negan sleeping in a fucking drawer. “And I’ve had my best fucking people up here, trying to fucking make sense of it. I fucking swear the instructions aren’t in fucking English, or Spanish, or fucking a language known to man.” 

Fuck. We’re screwed, I thought, directing the fear at Satan’s grandkid. You better be fucking small, little one, because that fucking drawer is gonna be a tight fit. 

“We could always just borrow some stuff from Alexandria.” I was careful NOT to say ‘from Dad’. Negan’s ego at failing in this ONE task he’d set for himself would fucking go into overload at the mere mention of my dad saving the fucking day. 

I felt him to fucking rigid under me. Fuck. “I don’t think that’s necessary, princess.” Sure, it’s not fucking necessary at fucking all. I’m sure the baby will love to lay in a mass of wood and screws. I mean, the pieces are all there, they just aren’t in the right order. It’s the thought that counts, right?

As I lay with my husband, in our bed, letting my exhaustion win and pull me under, my final thought was of our tiny little devil, horns and all, smiling up at me from my underwear drawer. All those fucking pieces of lace and satin cradling the tiny red body, and the little forked tongue flicked out at me. 

No, I don’t fucking actually think that my little nugget is a demon. I woke up and remembered what I had drifted off to, and wanted to smack myself. Vivid fucking dreams were a really shitty part of this pregnancy, but that one fucking pissed me off. I may tease, internally, Negan’s biological father’s identity, but our baby had just as much me as him, so I was fucking certain that they would come out looking human. Hell, Negan looked like a fucking walking wet dream, so I had good cause to feel confident that we’d made a pretty baby. 

It was exhaustion. Coupled with irritation and fear of our lack of completed nursery. And my internal urge to compare my husband to his fallen angel father didn’t help. 

When I woke up, Negan wasn’t in bed, and I was tangled up in ALL of the blankets. Which added exponentially to my already unwieldy self. I was groaning, and fighting to get free and up, when he peeked out of the bathroom. I could see his smirk, but I also saw him coming to free me, so I didn’t bite his hand when he started loosening me from the mess I’d created during sleep. Once the blankets and sheets released me, he gave me his hands and pulled me to a sitting position. Ugh. I would need a literal crane soon. I fucking knew it. 

Negan sat beside me, pulling me into his side. “Feeling better?” He tipped my chin so he could look into my face. His thumb ran under my eyes again, and I wondered if the circles were less raccoon-like yet. 

I nodded, smiling up at him. I could go to bed feeling so fucking irritable at his stubbornness, but wake up and see him and feel far better than I should. My hand went to my huge bump and I felt our baby nudge me. Negan’s hand joined mine, and there it was again. A little push. A nudge to say “yeah, I’m awake too.” 

“Active today,” Negan whispered, kissing my temple. “Seems our little one isn’t as opposed to mornings as their mama is.” His eyes, such a gorgeous shade of honey brown today, were sparkling. 

I smirked up at him. “Hey, their mama doesn’t complain nearly as much as she used to about waking up early.” I reminded him, and watched his eyes darken at the memories of all the ways he’d taken to convince me. “You know, husband of mine, I think that you and me, and this destroyed bed could take a few minutes to remind me how fucking amazing mornings can be.” I raised an eyebrow, and watched him consider it. 

“Shit, what I wouldn’t fucking GIVE to give into you right fucking now, wife.” His smile grew. “BUT,” he stood up and held out his hands for me to take. “You have a previous engagement this morning.” 

My nose scrunched up as he pulled me upright. “You’re turning me DOWN? For sex?” I felt a glare form on my face. Damn it, I wanted to, NOW. “And what stupid fucking engagement trumps me, and you, NAKED?” 

He laughed, the boisterous one that bubbled around him. “Your face, Callie, is fucking priceless when you’re denied.” He shook his head and tugged me to the bathroom. “Nothing trumps you naked, princess, nothing.” He started to undress me, tugging my tank over my head, shucking my sweats off my legs. “Except,” he stopped me reaching for him. “Your check up with the doctor.” Fuck.

He pushed me toward the shower streaming warm water that he’d set as I woke up. Ugh. I hadn’t paid attention when he’d rescued me from the bed, but he’d already dressed. Which meant, I was going to have a lonely fucking shower. Yuck. He saw my pout and gave another bark of laughter. Asshole. 

“Just think, darlin’. The last time we held off, we nearly fucking destroyed a wall.” And with that fucking reminder, he walked out of our bathroom whistling. 

I showered, growling about the indignity of having to do it solo. Of being denied the ONE thing that made mornings fucking bearable. Of the fact that he seemed so fucking unaffected by the loss of it. Of me. Of sex. Of sex WITH me. 

When I stepped out of the shower, grabbing the towel he’d set out for me, I was still steaming. Seriously? I FINALLY got rest. I was FINALLY fully awake. And he’d fucking say “nope?” Fucker. Asshole. I kept up a steady stream of names and rage as I dried off. As I brushed through my wet hair. As I braided my hair. When I stomped into our bedroom and found it empty, I literally growled. Out loud. 

Grabbing a pair of leggings. Throwing on a bra and a loose fitting tank so my bump wouldn’t be restricted. Sliding my feet into the same shoes that I’d worn last because they were easy to reach, I kept up my internal cursing of my husband. The father of my little demon seed. I knew he’d be in the kitchen. After all, it was morning and I had to fucking eat. 

And there he was, whistling as he put food on a plate for me. Turning to smile at me, dimples full blown and looking supremely fucking content. Asshole. “Come have your breakfast, sweetheart.” 

Fuck you, I thought, but I took a seat when he held out my chair. I picked up my fork and started to eat. Not waiting for him to join me. Screw him. Screw our morning ritual. Screw the fucking birds and the sun and Dr. Carson and his fucking groping hands that he needed to use to make sure baby demon seed was where they were supposed to be. Just fucking screw everything. 

Yes, I was being irrational. Of course some tiny part of the rational me, the one not overwhelmed by hormones jacked up by an alien invader knew that. But that part was being smothered by the other part. The irrational hell bitch who wanted her morning orgasm like normal people wanted their morning coffee. 

I chewed through my entire breakfast in silence. I didn’t even notice if he joined me. If he tried to make conversation. My entire being was focused on my fucking rage. He’d asked the night before why I didn’t have any weird fucking cravings. Well apparently my fucking weird fucking craving was HIM. Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized that Callie hadn't had ANY of the fun complications that come from being pregnant. No morning sickness. No weird issues with smells. No medical complications beyond a slightly elevated blood pressure. 
> 
> And was that really fair? To let her just slide right through to the end without a single fucking hiccup? Nah.
> 
> And that's why I HAD to do it. I HAD to see how Callie would handle the raging fucking hormones that overrule any rational part of you at least once. And here it is...


	33. My Body, My Choice...Do You Hear Me, You Little Demon Spawn?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't taking this new Negan. A Negan that wasn't ready to remind me of ALL the things his tongue, and body could do to me to make mornings less of a fucking abomination. 
> 
> And then, when I am FORCED to go to my check up without my morning "wake up" call, what do I hear? That it's almost time, like ALMOST fucking time. 
> 
> What the literal hell? I've been married to him for like a second, so that just couldn't fucking be right. And if it was, if I'd somehow completely fucking missed the passing of those critical months of "and baby makes three" prep? Well too fucking bad, you little shit. Mommy isn't fucking ready. And I'm pretty damn sure that neither is Daddy.
> 
> My body, my terms.

I waddled along with Negan to my oh so important check up, still irritable. I mean, honestly, who did he think he was? Denying me? His WIFE. And smugly taking my hand and whistling as we travelled through the fucking building. How dare he?

Dr. Carson was smiling too. Fucker. I glared at the examination table, high off the fucking floor, mocking me. I may have growled. The look on Negan’s face would make it a worthwhile assumption. Great, I thought, as he helped me up so the exam could begin, I’ve turned fucking feral.

After being poked, prodded, and squeezed, the good doctor helped Negan get me back into a vertical position. Yep, crane in my near future. I wondered if the Sanctuary had one on site? Dr. Carson was telling Negan that my pregnancy was coming along perfectly and that our wait was almost over. Wait, what?

“What?” I asked, irritation replaced with confusion. “Almost over? I’m only like six months along.”

The look on their faces told me differently. “Sweetheart,” Negan’s voice had taken a turn from deep, dark, and low to the type of tone I imagined he would use for a cornered and dangerous animal. “You’re eight months now.” 

The fuck?! I sat there, trying to wrap my head around what he was saying. How was that possible? We got married like a minute ago. “No.” I shook my head. “We were just-”

And then it hit me. He was right. They were right. I mean, duh, look at the fucking huge thing sticking out and making me doubt the existence of my feet. Shit. I felt like I had blinked and we were at the end of a movie. Damn it. 

They watched the reality dawn on me. And the obvious fucking fear that was dawning. Nope, I wasn’t ready. WE weren’t fucking ready. For fuck’s sake, the nursery was a pile of fucking wood. “Well, they’re just going to have to wait until I’m ready.” I stated. Making the decision that little demon spawn junior was going to have to settle in and wait until I said it was time to come out. That’s it. They were on my timeline now.

Negan’s eyes met the doctor’s. Clearly not expecting my decision, but too fucking bad. My body, my choice. “Callie,” the doctor, mimicking that freaking quiet and careful tone that Negan used, started. My eyes flashed to his face and I saw him gulp. “That’s not how this works.”

“Well, too fucking bad.” I announced. I held out my hand to Negan, letting him know that I wanted help down from the damn table. “I don’t care how ‘this works’, I’m telling you, this little shitling isn’t coming out until I’m damn good and ready for them.” Negan had taken my hand and helped me, not willing to fucking try me now. “I’ll let you know when it’s time.” And then, not waiting for Negan to join me, I held my head high and walked back to our rooms.   
Negan followed me back. He must have since he was currently tiptoeing around me like I was a bomb about to go off. He found things to do that didn’t include the banging of God knew what in the nursery. An unfinished nursery for the baby that thought they could decide when to make their grand fucking appearance. Nope. Not today Satan. Or anytime soon, I might fucking add.

I made the bed. I washed the dishes. I performed all those domestic tasks that would have made me laugh, barefoot and pregnant, oh the fucking irony. I heard Negan’s voice, low and quiet, but didn’t care. Screw him. Screw him and his fucking forced celibacy. Because, I may fucking want to screw his damn brains out regardless of this fucking situation, but fuck that. And him. Without actually fucking him. 

Once the menial domestic chores were done, I lowered myself to our couch and grabbed a book that I had nearby. I managed, through sheer force of will and the urge to do it on my fucking own, to get my feet up on the table. My back was screaming with the damn knot, but I ignored the pain. Screw you, demon seed, screw you. 

I fell into my book. Letting it take my mind off of my current state. Horny, huge, and fucking mad. Instead I let the book’s story replace my reality. And, like the huge barge of hormones that I was, I fell asleep in the middle of it. 

I woke up in our bed again. Alone. Ugh. I wanted up. Whether to sit or to stand, I didn’t fucking care, but UP. I turned toward Negan’s side and shook my head. The walkie was on his pillow. Grabbing it, I noticed that he’d set it to his frequency, and rolled my eyes. 

“Wanna come help my huge ass get up?” I asked, smiling despite myself. Huge, irritating, compassionate worrywart of a husband. 

I could hear his smile when he answered that he’d be right here. And he was. I almost wondered if he’d been relaxing just outside our bedroom door, but I highly doubted he’d hovered that close and hadn’t joined me. 

Once I was more vertical, leaning against our headboard with my back against the pillows for more cushion, he did join me. Sitting back against the headboard beside me, Negan took my hand in his. His long fingers dwarfed my own, shorter and pudgier ones, and I studied them as he linked our hands. Those fingers, those hands, had touched me intimately, gently, comfortingly, and as we sat, side by side on our bed, they anchored me to the reality of our newest ordeal. I sighed. 

“I kind of want to see how you’re planning on keeping our little one hostage when they want to break out of there, princess.” His voice had returned to the low, deep teasing tone I preferred. “Cause honestly, if any fucking one could do it, I’d bet the farm on you.” 

I grinned. And rolled my eyes. “I may have been a bit distraught.” I said, pulling our linked hands to my bump. “We’re not ready, Negan.” I whispered, my fear so clear in my voice that I knew he’d hear it. “We’re not. Not yet.” I shook my head at the very thought. “We don’t have name ideas. We don’t have a fucking clue how to make this work. And-” I stopped myself from reminding him about the disaster that was the nursery. 

“Sweetheart, Callie,” he used his other hand to turn my head to face him. “Is anyone ever fucking ready?” I raised an eyebrow. “Do you really think your dad was fucking prepared when you came kicking and screaming into the world? Your mom?” 

When he mentioned Mom a flash of her dying when Judith was born came rocketing through me. He must have seen me flinch because the hand that had turned my face to him, cupped me gently. 

“You’re going to be fine, honey.” He said it with as much conviction as I’d declared that I was going to decide when our baby would be allowed to make their appearance. And I knew how fucking likely that was. “You are.” He’d seen that on my face too, the doubt. “I will fucking walk through fire to make sure of it.” And I knew he meant it. He’d die to make sure I didn’t, but that wouldn’t do either. Me and Negan. Forever. Or else. 

“We have so much to do,” I whispered, forcing my mind away from the fear of my own mortality, to the more obvious issues. “The nursery-” Damn it, I fucking didn’t want to remind him.

He surprised me, smiling widely and leaning closer to kiss me. “About that-” he stood and tugged me to my feet. He walked me from our bedroom and toward the nursery. “I think you might like what I did while you were,” he cleared his throat. Rage napping? He opened the door and I felt my mouth drop open at what greeted me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so not only is she currently sexually frustrated, BUT she's just realized that their baby is really almost ready to announce themselves. I like to think that Callie would take this news with about as much calm and grace as she had being thrown on the floor the first time they slept together. Or when she'd denied sex. Or... Basically Callie doesn't like being told that she's at the mercy of ANYTHING.


	34. Would This Man EVER Stop Shocking Me?  And Yes, I Can Be Given My Morning Coffee in the Evening....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear God, Negan was full of fucking surprises...and a hell of a lot of other things...*Wink wink nudge nudge*

When Negan opened the door to our nursery, I have to admit, I had a terrible thought that he’d given up on the entire shitshow and made it a man cave or office instead. He hadn’t, of course, but it wouldn’t have shocked me if he’d given up. 

My mouth dropped open in surprise and happiness. He’d done it. Somehow he’d figured it out. Without making a shit ton of noise to keep me awake. Which made me suspicious. He’d had months to make it happen, yet in ONE fucking afternoon the magic happened? 

While I admired the room, my eyes took in the crib, the rocking glider with ottoman, the chest of drawers with a pad on top to use as a changing table, and a bassinet on wheels. I walked further inside, and had to smile through my curiosity of Negan suddenly becoming Bob the Builder. He’d chosen Winnie the Pooh for the theme, and I wondered how he fucking knew? 

He stood in the doorway watching me touch the crib and the little touches that he’d added here and there. A tiny lamp with the characters I’d loved from childhood. A set of plush versions, so soft that I couldn’t believe they could be real. The mobile, dangling over the crib, certain to play the theme song I’d know anywhere. It was all there. The rocker was soft too, I found, touching the cushions. Would Negan ever STOP surprising me? 

There were framed prints of the characters, stacked on top of the pad on the dresser. I picked them up one by one and smiled at the scenes. “I wanted to wait to see where you wanted them hung.” He offered, coming up behind me to wrap his arms around me and propping his head on my shoulder to look at them with me. 

“A part of me wants to know HOW,” I said, smiling at the impossibility of the room I was standing in. “And the other wants to just enjoy it. Be happy that at least one thing is checked off our ‘to do’ list.” 

He chuckled and turned to kiss my neck. “Honestly? I finally found someone to fix the mess I made.” I smiled, thinking about what it cost his ego to admit that he’d bitten off more than he could chew. “Laura, by the way. She’s an aunt. Helped her sister put all the baby shit together before, the father was a dick.” I nodded. “She came in here and rolled her fucking eyes, threw me out, and then brought me back in when she was finished.” I giggled. “Probably didn’t even NEED the fucking stupid instructions.” 

I leaned back into his body. Letting him take the majority of my new weight. My arms covered his, over top of where he had settled under the heaviness of my breasts, and on top of my bump. He’d done it. Just like he’d promised to. 

“Do I tell you often enough that you’re amazing?” I asked, as he stood so my head could fall back against his chest, tucked under his chin. “Because you are. You are so fucking amazing.” 

Negan hummed. I knew he was happy that he’d made this happen. That he’d calmed at least ONE of my fears. “Wanna pretend it’s morning and you just woke up?” And I felt my lips curve up at the deep, dark, low voice that I’d fucking love to hear for the rest of my life. 

He scooped me up, another fucking miracle, and took me back to bed. Where he joined me, in every sense of the word.

When I was completely reminded of why mornings weren’t so bad, deep in the evening hours, Negan and I lay together replete with satisfaction. We hadn’t destroyed any walls. And we didn’t break our fucking bed, but that was a close one. Holding out, abstaining from one another wasn’t simply unbearable. It was fucking dangerous. 

He was stroking my bare skin, something he’d done almost every single time we’d had sex. As though his very fucking fingertips needed to memorize every inch of me. And I was snuggled over top of him, using his chest and stomach as a pillow for our baby bump. My leg thrown over his, and smiling like I’d just seen heaven in full technicolor. 

“You got any name ideas, princess?” His voice was quiet, soothing now that we’d run one another ragged. 

Propping my chin up so I could look up at his face, I studied him. Baby names? “Not really.” I hadn’t really thought about it at all, strangely. “You?” 

He smiled down at me, brushing a curl out of my face. “We’re not sure what we’re having, makes it kinda fucking hard to settle on anything.” True, but didn’t most parents toss out ideas? Barring Judith from the equation, I knew that Mom and Dad had. I mean, my name was decided early on, and then since mine started with a “C” they’d found Carl’s. I realized that really did make Judith the odd one out. 

“Mom and Dad used a baby name book.” I remembered seeing it when I was a bit older and asking Mom why she’d kept it. She had smiled at me and said that she’d kept it ‘just in case’. Not that her and Dad had necessarily planned on more children, but since I wasn’t entirely sure they’d planned on me and Carl, it had made sense. “She picked mine because it meant ‘beautiful’.” I smiled when she’d told me the story. Of how, when she’d found out I was going to be a girl, that she wanted me to know that I was the beauty that came from her and Dad’s love. I’d thought it was too sappy for words, but a sweet sentiment. 

“And Carl?” I laughed. That one wasn’t as sweet. 

“Yeah, well Mom wanted to make us sound united, so she decided on alliteration to show it.” I grinned up at him. “I’m glad I came first, because MY name has such a great meaning. Poor Carl.” Negan waited, watching as I giggled. “His name was used to describe the lowborn and villains, in the old world.” I remembered looking his name up in Mom’s naming book and crowing at the fucking idea. “It was the only name that Dad and Mom agreed on.” His eyes were twinkling. 

“Judith?” Caught that, didn’t you? 

I swallowed down the pain of the day my baby sister had come into the world. “Mom and Dad were having-” I tucked my head back into his chest, fighting the pain of remembering. “They weren’t getting along when Judith was born.” I saw the blood, the pain, and Carl’s gun flashing as it fired. “And when she-” I stopped. It was too much, I didn’t want to dampen the happiness I’d felt since I woke up from my nap. 

Negan sighed. “I’m sorry.” I felt his lips brush my hair. “I shouldn’t have-”

I shook my head against his skin. “I will tell you, I promise, just not right now.” His arms tightened around me, giving me comfort and showing he understood. 

“Let’s go back to the topic at hand.” I smiled as he changed the subject back to less painful shit. “Naming our little bundle of joy.” 

We tossed ideas back and forth, until our stomachs grumbled in harmony. And reluctantly, we both got out of bed, to get back into the swing of things. Our routine, until at least, our little seed was ready to pop out of me and say “here I am!”


	35. Interlude:  Nursery Addition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He'd done it again, he surprised the fuck out of me. Jesus would wonders never cease?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know. I made sure that Negan took care of something that would have fucking killed Callie to leave undone. That nursery would have led to more "demon baby in the undie drawer" nightmares for sure.
> 
> Remember the hers/his expectation or wishes vs reality? Yeah, well in the end, I like to think that while his Saviors would have totally tried the IKEA store, I also like to think that Laura was on the walkie with them warning against doing it. And also giving them a damn list to check off the fucking necessities. (Negan's great, and he'd give her the world, but it's not like he's got the experience.)
> 
> As for the little touches and him picking her favorite childhood story and characters? Do you really think that Rick didn't take his son-in-law aside and give him fucking hints? He's excited about the baby too, after all. And I'm sure Michonne chimed in. And Carl offered his piece. Trust me, Negan had PLENTY of help to get the desired result. 
> 
> I'm including some outfits and thangs that I think that he'd grabbed while doing his own fucking run for those special touches. Because Negan's excited. Very very excited about his little person, and about his wife's happiness and satisfaction.

Callie, like me, LOVES Winnie the Pooh. The sweetness of it, the fact that Eeyore exists within this group of sweetness and is excepted with all of his sadness and gloom, the entire story is something she (and I) have loved since childhood.

Laura, I have no doubt, warned Negan that while the nursery would eventually be a great idea for the baby, the reality was that a bassinet was going to have to be a reality. And so, she advised the Saviors on their run to find one that was on wheels. That way, baby could go where they went within their rooms. And they could move the damn thing as close to their bed or as far away from it (that they could stand) as they wanted. And I like to think, these guys and gals that may have NO fucking clue what they're doing from experience, start to take note of some of the shit that Laura's saying. And they see the box for this one, and notice that it's got the mobile thing, the wheels, AND fucking storage. SCORE!

Any new mother will tell you, once she's caught up on her fucking sleep, that a rocking chair or rocker/glider is a fucking MUST. Especially if formula is low on the ground and breast feeding became a necessity. And trust me, that new mother WILL at some point fall the fuck asleep while baby nourishes, in that fucking chair. And she'll wake up glad that she had the cushioning and the comfort.

And now...for the fucking fun stuff. Negan, while out there in the world (not alone, he's not fucking stupid) searching for those tiny touches that Rick told him about, that Michonne gave input on, that Carl fucking demanded for his sister, would have seen some baby shit that he'd fall in love with. The ones that I'm sharing are fully gender neutral, because I'm NOT giving spoilers about the gender. Nope. Can't make me.

Callie has called their baby a "nugget", a "bean", and a "seed". I have no doubt that Negan's also heard her call them a "peanut". And after that fucking fork, this one tickled him senseless. 

Yeah, this one was obvious. Negan already envies the baby for this...and he'd get it just so he could glare at the little shit during breakfast for a good reason.

He'd grab this one for two reasons, both utterly fucking sappy. He adores Callie, I mean did you READ those fucking vows? And he's absolutely certain that their kid is gonna take after her so damn much, and he'd fucking love it, because she's the most gorgeous woman in the world to him. Plus, think of Callie seeing this, after he'd dressed the baby on his own. The look on her face, priceless.

Technically it should be "Made by Satan, Once Removed" but it's a keeper. If we've been privy to Callie's belief about just who helped create the man she loves, then you can damn be sure that he's heard it a time or two...or a thousand. She's not exactly quiet...

I think we've all seen that Negan is pretty much complete mush around Callie. And I swear to God, I can almost HEAR him when he comes across these in his raiding. Can't you? 

And these soon after those little slippers...Like I can just fucking see his face...and then the fear that one of his fucking soldiers catching him, and forcing that shit down. LOL

The next couple of additions are what I'd assume some of his people would make. You have to know that someone in the Sanctuary knits...and since he's Negan, I'm more than certain that they'd end up giving him a few handmade things:

And if only they didn't live in a world where this one couldn't fucking exist, I'd kill to see it on their baby:

Hope you enjoyed this interlude...Stay tuned...Cause the countdown continues to Baby Negan/Callie


	36. Negan's So Fucking Hot That My Leggings Can't Handle the Heat...Ewww...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nursery? Check.
> 
> Names? Check.
> 
> Preparing myself for the fucking terror of something the size of a bowling ball passing out of a hole the size of a finger? Maybe?

The nursery was finished, once I showed Negan where the pictures should go. We’d finally decided on a few names, planning on waiting until we met our little bean when they got here to make the final decision. And, because being forewarned is being forearmed, I picked up the pregnancy handbook again. And another month started passing us by.

We went back to discussing what we could expect during the final stretch of my pregnancy. And trust me, we weren’t as flippant as we’d been earlier. 

“So, aside from this kid’s massive fucking head coming out of the very tight part of you that I’m fucking partial to,” we were finishing dinner, of course. “You might have problems catching your fucking breath first, heartburn maybe, and more fucking back pain?” He sat back and studied me. “Damn it, we’ve had if fucking easy haven’t we?” 

I laughed at his use of ‘we’. “Yeah, apparently the honeymoon is over.” I glanced down at the book. “And labor, from start to finish, could take DAYS.” I cringed, fucking days of pain. That sounds like a fucking vacation. 

Negan looked like he wanted to be sick. “Days?” He swallowed hard and collected our plates. “Fuck, Callie, I’m sorry.” 

I laughed harder. Poor baby, he was sorry that WE’D created a baby and I had to deal with the ordeal of bringing them into the world. “Don’t be,” I smiled up at him. “It’ll be worth it. Our baby, here, with us finally.” And, I added in my head, crying, shitting, and needing constant attention. Let’s not ruin parenthood for him just yet. 

He started the water to wash the dishes from dinner and lunch. While his back was turned, I took time to appreciate the full vision of him. Tall, dark, and handsome just wasn’t adequate enough to describe him. The power that radiated off of him in waves. His cockiness, his absolute certainty that he was the master of his domain. Damn. He was fucking hot.

“I can feel your eyes on me, sweetheart.” I smirked at his back. “Me doin’ the damn dishes turning you on?” 

“Haven’t you ever heard that that’s the fucking secret to a happy marriage? A husband doing the domestic thing?” He chuckled. “Honestly? You turn me on. By breathing.” 

“That right?” Damn his voice just lowered an octave and my leggings just got damper. Wait, was that, shit. 

“Um, Negan?” I felt the squish drip down the chair to my feet. Fuck. “Baby?” 

He turned, glanced down at the dripping sound and his eyes nearly popped out of his fucking head. “Shit.” Yeah, my thoughts exactly. “Is that?” 

“I think Baby Negan,” Lucifer, my mind inserted, “is ready to make a grand fucking appearance.” 

He started rushing around. For what I’m not fucking sure. I mean, we’re completely internal here. The doctor, the fucking infirmary, everything so the fact that my hot, totally in control fucking husband had just fucking forgot where he is and what we needed to do was not something we thought to prepare for. 

He nearly slipped in the expanding puddle. A puddle that expanded as the fucking ‘water breakage’ came out in squirts. I’d assumed one gush and done. NOT fucking so. His eyes finally took note of a walkie and he grabbed it. Ah, there he was, the Negan I married. 

It took him a few tries to get the right fucking channel, but he let the good doctor know that it was a go for the arrival of our little one. And then, looking down at me, and my ruined fucking leggings, he did what he would always do. He picked me up and started for the infirmary. 

OK...After about three hours of the so called fucking water squirting out of me, I STILL wasn’t FEELING anything. I’d expected to feel the contractions. I mean for fuck’s sake, that’s what the goddamn handbook told me. Dr. Carson was so fucking calm, assuring me that it was perfectly normal that I wasn’t feeling pain and I wanted to punch him in the face. Negan, holding my hand like he knew my thoughts, which I didn’t doubt he could read clearly on my face, was holding me back from rendering the doctor unconscious at this particular point in our lives. His squeezing was telegraphing his terror at the thought of having to figure out this shit on his own if the only person with fucking actual experience was out. 

Seeing the panic on my face, the irritation that I knew was rolling off me in fucking waves, Negan picked up a walkie and did the only thing he could think of. 

Laura was at my side before I could make sense of anything, and then I felt it. Like the literal gates of hell unleashed in my lower half and I was giving birth to Freddy fucking Kruger. Jesus, seriously, Satan, are you fucking trying to rip me apart from the inside?!

I screamed. I said things that would make Negan blush, because he fucking did. I threatened every fucking life that I’d ever come across. His, Laura’s, the doctor’s, Simon’s, Dwight’s, fuck I named names that I’m not sure went with actual people I’ve ever fucking met. And after fucking weeks, it seemed, it finally came time to unleash my little asshole onto the world. I thought for certain that I’d been ripped apart from my sternum to my ass, the pain hurt so fucking bad and the burning the fucking burning. 

Then there was a cry, and I felt tears of relief, of exhaustion, and of the knowledge that FINALLY our baby was here. 

Negan looked like he’d just seen the meaning of life, and in a way he had. As he reluctantly released my hand, kissing my sweaty forehead and staring into my eyes like I’d given him the best gift of his life, he stepped to the doctor and cut the cord. I lay back and Laura looked down at me with a huge fucking grin. 

“Damn, boss, you did it.” Her smile was so bright that I felt my own grow. 

Before I could ask, Negan was back, cradling an impossibly small being with a flash of red hair crowning the very small head and he smiled at me and I felt like it didn’t matter. Boy or girl. Nothing mattered, but that they were here, and we were together. 

“Wanna meet our little girl, mama?” And I choked back a sob. A girl? With that bright hair, and as he helped me cradle her to my chest, her tiny eyes locked on me and I saw Negan stare back at me. Hazel. Just like Daddy’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled for awhile, ever since I decided that Big Bad Negan was gonna be a daddy, what his first child's gender would be. And after scaring myself shitless with a baby generator (NEVER DO THAT AGAIN), I started looking through pictures of babies that had the defining characteristics of Callie and Negan. Her hair, her eyes. His hair, his eyes. I'd have added the dimples, but honestly, babies are kind of dimply all over. 
> 
> And eventually it came to me. What would be the "perfect" first child for the Big Bad Wolf? Little Red, clearly.
> 
> Just so everyone knows, I NEVER felt my own contractions until they insisted on giving me petocin. Then, much like Callie, I felt like I was being shredded from the inside out. Eventually I was given a C-section, but felt that that would be too fucking traumatic for this one. And so, here it is. Baby Negan..


	37. Here's....  You Didn't Actually Think I'd Put the Name in the Title, Did You?  (INTERLUDE AGAIN)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I thought, since their baby has FINALLY made their grand entrance, I'd share what I think the baby would look like...
> 
> And let me tell you, this baby already has the two of them, and damn near the entire Sanctuary wrapped around their tiny little finger...

Before we get to the grand reveal...I thought I'd share the "pregnancy handbook" that Callie references. It's the one that a well meaning coworker gave me when I was expecting (it was apparently free way back then). 

Now, we all know that Negan is just freaking tickled about the baby's gender. The easy choice would have been to go with the one with the most testosterone, but let's be realistic. Negan loves the ladies, especially his two. And so I'm sure, aside from the onsies I shared before, he's also stockpiled some gender specific ones, you know just in case. And, I'm sure he'd bring their little one home in one that he'd sort of hidden from Callie, so she wouldn't think that he had a preference. 

The only "other" chick that Callie would EVER allow Negan to entertain...

Technically, Callie is Negan's Princess...I do think she's more of a Queen, but to each their own. As for the baby? Well, I'd think he'd want her to be a badass...and his princess. 

Kind of want to see which one fucks *damn it* up this warning first...

Think this is a toss up...

A subtle dig at those fucking quacks who told him he COULDN'T...

And the very last one, because honestly I think he'd totally see these and think "Those"...

NOW...Without further delay...Here's Satan's favorite granddaughter:

She's small, but fierce...And now we have to see who she takes after the most...


	38. We're Back...Home That Is, and We're at the Mercy of a Tiny Tyrant...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's gorgeous. She's precious. And she fucking knows it.

Our little girl. She was precious, and perfect. Her eyes held me captive, and her hair drew Negan’s hand like it was magnetized. I didn’t notice when Laura faded away, or when the doctor followed after cleaning me up following the exit of the placenta, and making sure that I was safe from infection and giving me a few stitches for a slight tearing that occurred.

Alone with her, allowing her to finally have her first meal, I watched in awe as she suckled the milk my body provided. How could I love someone so completely and effortlessly? Negan’s hand cradled her tiny head, smiling down at the two of us as our daughter drank her fill. We didn’t speak, I wasn’t sure I could, but the silence was reverent. This little girl held us captive and we couldn’t break the spell.

When she seemed finished, I held her up and repeated the burping procedure I’d perfected with my baby sister. Negan watched, clearly learning what to do, because I could see he was twitching with the need to hold her again. She gave a delicate burp and I smiled at her, with her little spit up, her tiny lips pursed.

“Here, Daddy,” I whispered, wiping her mouth with the slip of sheet that the doctor had given me for my modesty, and smiling as his huge hands dwarfed her small body. He was a natural. Holding her tiny head so carefully, and tucking her close against him. “She’s beautiful.”

His smile was breathtaking, as were his eyes, shining with unshed tears. “Of course she is, look at her mommy.” I smirked, thinking that right about now her mommy looked like she’d been to war and lost. “God, Callie, how can something this tiny fucking be real?”

I chuckled, “she didn’t feel so damn tiny when she was forcing her way out of me.” His chuckle was quiet as she’d drifted off. “So?”

And he knew the most important question we had to answer today. Which name was the right one?

While we’d waited for our tiny precious girl to appear, Negan and I had tried to find just the right name for her (or him). He’d been sure that our baby would be ALL me, so he wanted red themed names with green tinges. And I’d been absolutely fucking certain that our baby would be a miniature of him, boy or girl, and so I’d given the very opposite. I wanted gothic darkness with a hint of his hazel eyes that could change on a whim. And here she was a little of both of us.

We settled, finally, on her name as Dr. Carson came back and told us that if I felt well enough I could go back to our apartment. I honestly don’t know how long we’d been in the infirmary. How long the three of us were wrapped up together.

Our little princess. Negan’s precious bundle. Rick Grimes’ first grandchild. She needed a name that was as powerful as the two most dominant men in my life. Or at least made me think of their power, their convictions for their people. And most certainly that suited her tiny, captivating being.

And so, we named her Kiara Jade. Negan insisted that she should go by her middle name, since the name came from the color of my eyes. And I wanted her to be called by her first, because that’s how we picked it. It was actually settled by the women who guarded us, who would not hesitate to keep Negan and I safe, and now she was included. And that’s how our little girl became KJ, to them at least.

To be fair, only those outside our threesome used her name or initials at all. To us, she was ‘Princess’, ‘Angel’, and the one I used most ‘Pooh Bear’.

Back in our own apartment, Negan was fast learning that our little one was quite the demanding ruler. And yes, she ruled our home with a far heavier hand than I’d ever thought to. She demanded her food. She expected no hesitation in the delivery of her wants, which aside from food were the absolute necessity to be clean and dry at all times. She’d allow no hesitation in being bathed, diapered, fed, or cuddled. She expected both Daddy and Mommy to come to heel with her every whim. And for a newborn, she sure had a lot of whims.

First off, Kiara Jade did NOT like our sleeping schedule. At all. She also wasn’t fond of the bassinet. Or our bedroom. Or being put down. She expected to be held, coddled, rocked, and complimented. And if she was denied, then NO ONE would get any rest. And I mean NO ONE.

Negan, after the very first diaper that he’d changed (after the very first of hers that I did), realized that baby’s poop bears a horrifying resemblance to mustard, pudding, or as he was gagging, vomit. And he was absolutely flabbergasted by getting it out of all of her nooks and crannies.

“How the hell does someone so fucking small make this much fucking shit?” He asked, having procured a clothespin from the marketplace or laundry. And yes, he had the damn thing on his nose. Such a fucking baby, I swear. “And how the holy hell are you supposed to fucking clean it all out of her little fucking wrinkles?”

I’d laugh, because honest to fucking God he was killing me. “Just keep wiping until the last wipe you use comes out without anymore on it.” I advised as I made our dinner.

He took the task seriously. So seriously that I was waiting for him to give in to temptation and just fucking shower with her every diaper change. He hadn’t thought of it yet, but I felt sure that soon he’d figure it out.

Once he called the situation taken care of, and boy did he look like he’d had to run through a field of Agent Orange to get to the end, he’d act like he’d just fucking cured the plague. And she’d be cradled in his arms and his nose clip would be set aside and the baby talk would begin.

“Look at Daddy’s little princess.” He’d coo, and I’d roll my eyes. If only the Saviors and rest of the Sanctuary could see their fearful leader now. “Isn’t she just the tiniest, widdlest, thing in the whole fuckin’ world?”

Yes, Negan said the word ‘widdlest’. And yes, it was ridiculous. I’d watch him, walking around the room, rocking her in his arms as he treated her like the most precious thing in the world. And no, I wasn’t jealous. I felt the exact same way about her.

We tried, and I kept insisting on trying to lay her down while we ate. And she’d scream as though we’d tossed her ass out to the walkers to defend herself alone. After a few minutes, Negan and I would glance at one another in challenge, who would break? We both did at different attempts, but he broke more often. Pushover.

“She’ll never get used to being laid down, Negan.” I’d argue, as he ate with one arm and held her in the other. “And if she doesn’t get used to being in her bassinet, or her crib, then guess how long that six weeks is going to extend?” It was my last stand. And yes, I was using his absolute fucking NEED to have me sooner than later that I was bargaining on.

At first he acted like he could live with a few extra days or weeks even. But as the weeks stretched out, and she was STILL not having the alone time she needed, and WE needed for our own sanity, he started to hold out longer. And longer. And longer. Until, like a fucking miracle, she allowed herself to be put down in her bassinet with only a few moments of tantrum before she quieted, resigning herself to her fate.

I was smug. Abso-fucking-lutely I was smug. Negan was a natural at many parts of parenthood, but he’d forgotten that I had actual fucking experience.

He grew jealous of my breastfeeding her. NOT for the reason most people would assume, or the onesie she wore most often would infer. Actually he was jealous because he COULDN’T feed her. I couldn’t pump my milk, so he couldn’t bottle feed her, and he felt left out. Until I came up with a compromise. I’d be the cow, he could be the burper. That way we both got to cuddle her and participate in her mealtimes.

After the initial adjustment period of figuring out her patterns, then shoehorning her into a schedule, we actually managed to sleep. Before we knew it, she was sleeping mostly through the night, and she slept in the bassinet that she’d fucking detested on first contact. Once she crashed, so did we. Curling together, as tight as possible without breaking our six week rule, exhausted from our tiny terror’s rule we’d pass out.

Since we couldn’t actually have freaky deaky fun times, mornings became just as fucking irritating as they’d been before we came together. I’m sure that there was some form of intimacy we could try, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to know how fucked up my nether regions were after Kiara ripped free. What if it was damaged? What if I was loosey goosey? What if Negan took a look or a touch and thought ‘ew, not doing that again’?

And since I wasn’t ready for him to touch me, he abstained from any attempt I initiated to pleasure him. He martyred his own fucking pleasure, forgetting I’m pretty damn sure how fucking much I enjoyed it, because I wouldn’t let him reciprocate. And let me tell you, between the few too little hours of rest, the stress he had at juggling our family life and his role as the leader in our community, and NO fucking sexual release, we were both about as pleasant as one could imagine.

Clearly, all that stockpile of orgasms and penetration we’d tried ahead of time wasn’t fucking working. Not even a little bit. I lost track of time, honestly, and had no fucking clue how close to the end of our six weeks we were. Negan had too, apparently, because Dr. Carson and to remind HIM that Jade and I had a six week check up the next morning.

Negan’s eyes met mine over our dinner. Shit. I knew that look. That dark gaze, that lip licking. Fuck. Like truly, fuck, because I was fucked. Damn it. I wondered how to fucking ask the good doctor to be sure that I wasn’t destroyed and disgusting down there. Without my absolutely fucking raging at the bit husband hearing. Just fucking great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'm well aware that Callie uses BOTH of Kiara Jade's names at different points in this chapter. I think she's testing them out, trying to choose which one feels the MOST right. Even if KJ is more likely to be called by nicknames or terms of endearment...
> 
> And I know it's flashing forward through those six weeks, but honestly, a newborn will make you think you blinked and then suddenly they're a fucking toddler. Parenthood is a fucking trip. And add in the actual fucking exhaustion that Callie and Negan are operating on...


	39. Loosey Goosey?  Shower Time and the Quest to Make Negan See That Babies Don't Need Added Incentive to Be Assholes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She had him wrapped around her little finger. Me too, but I was far more rational about her hold than my darling husband. 
> 
> Then he gets that dark look, his voice takes that low, deep growl that just makes me think of all the ways Hell couldn't possibly be as hot as him, and I start to freak out. I mean, I JUST had a baby. It HAS to be a disaster DOWN THERE, right? Right?

We woke up early with our little princess the next morning. While I sat at the table, giving her breakfast, Negan made the two of us ours. He was whistling as he cooked, and I was shaking my head at how completely carefree he looked and sounded. Mornings, without the distraction of reminding me how worthwhile being awake was, tended to drag by for me. But for my husband? It was like he hit reset and was raring to go. 

He set my plate down in front of me as my little Pooh Bear finished hers. He held his hands out with a huge smile and took her from me. Letting me tuck into my meal as he took his time to coax a burp out of her tiny mouth and took care of her spit up like he’d been doing it all his life. Then after a bit of a cuddle, he lay her down in her bassinet, and she didn’t let out a peep of frustration. 

Negan looked at me in surprise and I smiled around the bite I’d just taken. Told ya so, ran through my mind as he grabbed his own plate and joined me. He smiled at me as he started to eat and I felt a clench low in my belly. I knew that smile. I knew the darkening in his eyes. Fuck. He was VERY hungry, and I had no doubt that his breakfast wasn’t going to be nearly filling enough for him. 

“We’ll head down to the infirmary after our shower.” Our shower? Dear fucking Lord. We hadn’t showered together since we brought our angel home. One stayed dry while the other showered with her, then we’d hand off. Fuck. 

I glanced over at the bassinet, wondering if I could cock block my own husband with our infant daughter. 

“We can give her a bath in the sink first.” Shit. He really could read my damn mind. “What’s wrong, baby girl, scared?” 

More like horrified to find out what damage your little girl caused when she came clawing out of me. “Of course not,” I answered, pushing my plate away. “It’s just that, why rush? I mean, we almost ignite when we don’t give in.” I sounded off to myself. “Why get all hot and bothered before we get Dr. Carson’s OK?” 

Negan studied me while he ate. And I worked damn hard to not fidget. When he took a drink, his plate finally completely cleared, he stood up and took our plates to the sink. Quiet. He was too fucking quiet. Then, without a word to me, he picked up the baby and crooked his finger to me as he walked back to our bathroom. I closed my eyes to steel myself and followed.

He didn’t speak as he handed her to me in the bathroom. He didn’t say a word as he gathered together her bathing stuff. He didn’t open his mouth while he filled the sink with warm water. He just glanced at me, holding our daughter and raised his eyebrow. Shit, I’d been standing there gaping. I undressed Jade, taking off her still clean diaper and walking closer to Negan. Together we washed our little one, making sure that she was clean and sweet smelling before he wrapped her in her towel and I grabbed the diaper and outfit we’d laid out for her. She was dried by Daddy, and then clothed by Mommy. And her tiny eyes were drooping by the time we finished. Fuck. What a traitor. 

“I’m going to bring her bassinet in here, and then we’re taking our shower, Callie.” His voice took on that low darkness that did things to my body, and I felt like I was breathing heavy already. 

It felt like my arms were empty of her weight and I was naked before I could add two plus two. And then he was pulling me into our shower, and the warm water was sliding down over me. “Open your eyes, princess.” I did as he tilted my face up to look into his. “Fuck you’re beautiful.” I doubted this. I still had plenty of padding left over from my pregnancy, and I was almost scared to even contemplate what my breasts looked like now that they were basically udders. I didn’t have a chance to voice my doubts because his mouth met mine and I sighed into the feeling. 

We’d kissed since bringing Kiara home. Of course we had, but there was always a tint of exhaustion. A bit of a yawn shared between us, but this kiss? This kiss reminded me of all the ways we were combustible. I felt the fire build, running down my entire body and then I was flush against him. Our skin finally touches without a barrier, without our little one between us. And I couldn’t recall why I hadn’t wanted this, to be with him here, in our shower. Returning to our daily routine right now, with his mouth, his tongue reminding me that we were still partners. We were most definitely lovers. 

I felt his hands, which had rested on my hips after pulling us tight together, start to tour my body. And then, as his fingers found their way between my legs, a flash reminded me exactly why I had fought against this. He felt me tense up and he pulled his mouth from mine with a question in his eyes. Shit. 

How do you tell your husband, the love of your life, the man who you’d die to touch, that you were scared that his offspring may have completely ruined your fucking nether regions? And, if she had, you’d rather fucking die than him touch you and find out, and then the full on repulsion flash on his face and making you die inside? 

“Callie, baby what’s wrong?” His voice was so fucking husky still, from his very fucking evident need that was trapped between us. “Sweetheart,” he tilted my head up when I looked down. “Tell me.”

Well, shit. I sighed, and felt tears come to my eyes. What the literal hell? Why the fuck was I so emotional right now? The demon spawn was out of me, so my hormones should be under my own fucking control now. And then it happened. I sobbed and spilled my guts. 

Most people who know of, or even who’ve met Negan would assume he’s terrible with emotional and crying women. Well, not so. At least he wasn’t with me. He cradled my body against him as I fucking shared everything. Every fear, every worry. And he held me, listened as I unleashed a torrent of worry, and didn’t interrupt me once. 

Once my verbal vomit was over, he was still holding me. He’d turned the water off and he pulled me out of the shower and wrapped me up in a towel. Donning one around his own waist, he scooped me into his arms and carried me back to our bed. Pushing the bassinet just outside the bathroom door. “Negan, you’re going to get the bed all wet,” I warned, when he placed me in the center. 

“Do I look like I fucking care about the bed getting wet?” He’d joined me, curving into my side, as I normally did to him. “Why didn’t you tell me, Callie? When you first started worrying?” 

I shrugged. “I didn’t want to think about it.” That was more than true. Who wants to imagine that the man they love would end up repulsed by their body after giving birth? No one. “I mean the doctor had to STITCH me up. Doesn’t that fucking scream it’s destroyed? How did her tiny little head rip me?” I rolled my eyes. “Not to mention that I’m fat. I’m still all bloated and gross, and I can’t even fucking believe that you’d WANT to see me naked.” 

Negan’s fingers were tracing my face, like he was worshiping my skin. They were creeping down to the towel wrapped around me as his eyes locked on mine. “First of all, Callie, there’s no fucking way that any part of you has been rendered fucking hideous or un-fucking-sexy.” He bit his lip as his eyes roamed down over my towel covered body. “Every single damn inch of you is perfect.” I opened my mouth, but he silenced me with a look. “I mean it. This body,” he pulled open my towel and ran his hand down my length. “This fucking body gave me the greatest goddamn gift I never knew I wanted. It carried our baby, Callie. And you brought her into this fucking world.” He shook his head as though he was in awe of me. He lowered his head and nuzzled into my neck. “I love you, Callie. I love your body. And there’s no fucking way that that’s changed. It never will.” 

And then he put actions to his words and used that mouth of his to prove it. 

We made it down to the infirmary after Negan had thoroughly educated me on just how much he still loved my body. Inch by inch of me. Kiara had to be fed again before we left, since her daddy had been a thorough teacher. And then we walked down together, outside of our apartment. I carried KJ. Negan carried Lucille. And we were flanked by two of the most badass looking fairy godmothers I’d ever seen. 

The check up went well. I was healed, the stitches had done their job. And our little angel was perfect. As though we had any doubts about that. When we were finished, I was surprised when Negan announced he wanted to take a walk around the Sanctuary. I shrugged and was about to go back to our apartment with Laura. “Princess, I want US to take a walk around.” I wanted so badly to roll my eyes. Jesus, he wanted to show her off. Fucking braggart.

“You aren’t making them kneel to her, Negan.” I said, staring up into his face. “I mean it. The terrible fucking twos are going to be nightmarish enough, let’s not add to her douchebaggery too soon, alright?” 

I saw a pout cross his face. I fucking knew it. “Fine.” He gritted out. “I mean she’s MY daughter, and they’re MY people, but fine. I won’t have them kneel for her.” And I swear to Christ, I heard him mutter, “Yet.”


	40. Hormones...SO  Many Hormones...That's a Great Excuse, Right?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our check up is in the bag. And Negan is behaving according to my tiny little demand. 
> 
> His first day back to work (fully away from us, his two girls, since Lucille is always with him), and I'm taking full advantage to- sleep.
> 
> What would you do if you woke up and the baby wasn't where you'd put her? And if you heard that voice mumbling from the nursery? And if you walked in and caught him IN THE ACT? 
> 
> Hormones are still running HIGH and that's the best fucking excuse I can come up with...

After taking our little one on a tour of the Sanctuary, and listening to Negan speak about her like she was already performing advanced calculus and would one day solve every problem that man could possibly come up with, I think both of us needed a nap. Negan kissed me with so much passion and promise for later, that I was a little embarrassed for the people who had to witness it. I mean, when you see that man use his mouth and KNOW you aren’t going to get to experience it, or hope to make your partner feel like he made me feel with just a fucking kiss, well that’s bound to hit you right in the self-esteem. And with a brush of his lips against our little girl’s head, we left him to go back upstairs. 

Laura was with me, Arat staying with him, and we’d made it just outside his hearing range when she turned to me and grinned. “I bet we don’t make it back to the apartment before he checks in.” She had the walkie in hand and I laughed. 

“No, deal,” I wasn’t about to lose that one. “I doubt we fucking make it to the stairs.” 

I was right, but so was she. He checked in so much that I handed KJ to Laura and took the walkie from her. “Negan, baby, if you don’t stop it, we’ll never get upstairs, inside our fucking rooms, and ready for tonight.” The threat or promise was clear. Let us get on with our damn day, and you do you, so tonight we could finally get lost in one another again. 

“I love you, Callie.” I could hear that my words were heard LOUD and CLEAR with that simple answer. And once I assured him that I loved him too, we finally were able to get upstairs. 

I fed my Little Red, and diapered her, and then laid her down for her nap. I ate a light meal, then took her bassinet into our bedroom, and gave in and took one too. 

I woke up to silence. Complete and utter silence. And the room was darker than I’d expected for a short nap with Kiara. I sat up faster than I had for MONTHS, fear blossoming in my chest. Where was she? Why hadn’t she woke up screaming for her meal? 

I was out of our bed, and rushing out of the bedroom, when I heard Negan’s voice a mumble through the walls. I stopped, panting from adrenaline and fear, trying to decide which room he was in. I found them, the two beings I loved more than life, in her nursery. He was rocking her in the chair, holding a bottle to her mouth. What the literal fuck?

“Negan?” I was shocked I was managing to not scream. He looked up at me, a soft smile on his lips, but I was livid. What the fuck? “What’s going on? What are you feeding her?” 

He took in what I could only imagine was a terrifying sight. My hair, after a FAR longer nap than I’d expected was no doubt a fucking crow’s nest. I was probably wrinkled, clothes and my face where it had been pressed into my pillow, and if my expression matched the way I felt inside, well I was shocked he wasn’t running from me. 

“Now, Callie sweetheart, don’t get upset.” Too fucking late, asshole. “It’s just-” He stopped, looking down at our little one. “A run found some unexpired formula. A shit load of it. And I thought-” His eyes met mine and I saw him gulp. 

“You thought, what, Negan?” My voice was still quiet, but deadly. “You thought you’d just make the decision to CHANGE her fucking diet? To just give her formula without speaking to me? That because you’re the fucking KING of this shithole that YOU get to make ALL the decisions?” 

I noticed that the bottle was almost entirely bubbles now. I stalked over to him and took her out of his arms, pulling the bottle from her mouth. “If she drinks air, she’ll get gas and trust me, you don’t want her to suffer from that. We’ll never get a wink of sleep.” I lifted her to my shoulder and carefully burped her. I felt the tiny bit of spit up that she was famous for, dribble onto my bare shoulder. Negan stood, and carefully wiped it away. His eyes on mine, and I felt my anger cooling. “I was scared. She was gone. And I was asleep for too long.” I was still quiet, but I wasn’t going to hit him. 

“I’m sorry, honey, I just thought-” His thumb stroked my cheek. “You’ve been doing so fucking much, Callie, I wanted to give you a break. Especially today.” 

I tried, so very hard, to keep my glare. I wanted to at least make him a little more uncomfortable, but damn it, how the hell could I? He’d done it for me, for us. And I couldn’t hold onto my ire. I mean, could you fault him for wanting to give me rest and to actually get to feed his baby? 

I tilted my head up to face him, offering my lips, and he smiled and took the opportunity I was offering. Brushing lightly against mine, his smile held as he stood back up. “I’m sorry.” I whispered, rocking KJ in my arms. “I woke up and got scared, then I came in here and got pissed.” For no real reason, I added in my head. “You were trying to be sweet and I lost my shit. Forgive me?” 

“Nothing to forgive, baby girl.” He wrapped his arms around us, letting his chin rest on my head. “My plan,” I let him sway the three of us, rocking our little one closer to sleep. “Was to feed our little princess, get her down for the night, call Laura in for ‘guard’ duty, and then take you into our fucking bedroom, and feast on you all fucking night.” Shit, his voice had gone from loving daddy and husband to hot as hell fuck stud very fast. “But you woke up too soon,” I was smiling down at our daughter, thinking that this man was going to be my ruin. “The plan has to change.”

I pulled back and looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. “What kind of change, Negan?” 

His smile was almost blinding, and most certainly predatory. “You’ll just have to wait and see, sweetheart, wait and see.”


	41. INTERLUDE...Because Facebook Knows Me Better Than I Know Myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a chapter, not even a real interlude...Just...Well

This popped up on my Facebook feed...I nearly choked...LOL


	42. Feels Like The First Time...Well, If the First Time Happened After Our Kid Popped Out of Me...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan had plans, boy did he have plans...
> 
> Luckily so do I...

Negan led me through our rooms to the kitchen. Once there, he took Kiara from my arms and kissed my forehead. “Go get a long warm bath, princess, I’m gonna get this little doll ready for her sleepover.” 

I raised an eyebrow. Sleepovers at six weeks? Shaking my head, I understood that he was trying to give me some down time. A little bit of me time before the we-time. For that reason, I walked over to him, kissed our daughter’s soft head, and brushed my lips against his. 

“I’ll be back,” I whispered up to him, and then I made my way to our bedroom, thinking that if he was going to make plans for us, then I’d find my own way to surprise him as well. 

I took advantage of my time in the bathroom. I took a long, hot bath, soaking in the water. When I got out, I dried myself and took my hair down. I brushed it out, leaving it down, since I knew how much he loved my hair down. I walked into our bedroom, hearing him fussing with something in the kitchen, I smiled and walked to the dresser. I rummaged until I found a set of the lingerie that he’d filled the drawer with until I came across something that would fit and wouldn’t make me feel stupid. 

Red lacy, but with the added function of holding in what I’d like to have held in, while pushing up what I needed pushed up, I had to hand it to my husband. He had interesting taste. Once I had the ribbons and lace in place, I opened up the dress side of my closet. It took less time to find what I could cover Negan’s present up with, and as an added bonus, it was held together with a simple bow. Perfect. And the color of it paired perfectly with my coloring and covered the bright red of the lingerie under it. I grabbed a pair of strappy black heels, with a thick enough heel that was sturdy enough to not make me feel like I was tilting over, and my outfit, and Negan’s gift was complete.

“Callie?” I heard him calling from the kitchen. “Dinner’s ready, sweetheart.” 

Dinner? That would explain the noises from the kitchen. Negan was going all in on date night. I walked out of our bedroom and to our kitchen carefully. I hadn’t worn heels in far too long and falling asshole over teacups would fucking ruin the image I was trying to create. When I got to the kitchen, I had to smile. 

“Spaghetti?” I asked, causing him to look up from a table he’d draped in white, candles in place and hell he even had wine glasses. 

Those dimples, those eyes, shit I was done for. “You said you liked my sauce.” Ooh boy, did I. “Come over here, gorgeous.” His eyes were devouring the vision I’d made, from my toes peeking out of the heels to the hair I’d left hanging freely down my back, if eye fucking were real, I’d be a puddle. 

When I reached the table, he held out my chair, kissing my cheek as I sat. His hands brushed through my loose hair, pulling it so it hung over the chair back. I took in our plates, he’d recreated our first meal, adding a bottle of brown liquor and a bottle of wine. I was biting my lip when he joined me, waiting to see how far we’d actually make it through dinner before he or I couldn’t take it a moment longer.

Negan sat and offered me a choice between wine and what I realized was whiskey. “Shouldn’t you card me first?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. His answering smirk told me I was pushing my luck, but he knew me and my mouth. 

“You sayin’ you’re jailbait, princess?” Ah that deep darkness that I missed so badly. 

I smiled down at my plate and picked up my fork. “Don’t think you ever asked me for my age, baby.” I was twirling my pasta around my fork. “Besides, I probably shouldn’t drink-” I was thinking of feeding Kiara, even with the boon of formula they’d found. 

He shook his head, and took my hand across the table. “One drink, even that pregnancy book says it’s alright.” My eyes met his. “As for your age, I think I’m more than safe on that one, after all, you’re not fucking wearing the plaid dress.” He winked and I had to laugh. 

“Got me there,” I answered, linking our fingers. “Wine, I guess, never had much of a taste for it, but pretty fucking sure that the whiskey would kill me.” 

I had a glass of wine, and Negan took a tumbler of whiskey. Our hands parted as we dug into the dinner he’d prepared. We talked, returning to the easy way we’d had before the baby came, the same way we did after she arrived, the way we’d talk to one another until the day we died. I was laughing, feeling a little looser once my glass was empty and noticed our plates were empty. How was it that this man could distract me enough that I rarely noticed what I’d eaten, or drank? 

“Looks like dinner’s over.” I offered, glancing up at my husband taking his final swig of whiskey. “What did you have planned for the rest of the night, Negan?” My voice was quiet, daring him. 

He sat his tumbler carefully on the table top. “I thought I might unwrap my gift.” I smiled, so he’d noticed. “Unless you’ve got something else in mind, Callie?” Ah, a challenge returned. 

I stood and sauntered to where he sat across from me. Like magic, he pushed his chair away from the table and my grin grew. What an eager man. I let my hand reach out and traced his face and lips with my fingertip. “It’s been six weeks,” I moved closer, stepping between his legs when he parted them. “Six LONG weeks, Negan.” I heard the air rush from him when I sunk to my knees. “Guess I’m still a little thirsty.” 

My hands went to work on his belt, button, and zipper, as his mouth crashed down on mine. God, I missed this. Him, that mouth, and as my hands met his hardness, definitely this. I pulled away from his kiss and pushed him back against the chair-back. “Relax, baby.” His hands slid through my hair and I smiled up at him as I finally got to take him back into my mouth. 

I took my time, enjoying him in the way that he’d enjoyed me this morning. Dear Lord, the taste of him on my tongue was far better than the wine, or the taste of whiskey on his mouth, more intoxicating. Those long fingers of his covered my scalp, guiding me to where he wanted me most, but also holding me carefully, reverently. Before I was given my due, he pulled me gently away, eyes blazing. 

“Not yet, princess.” And then I was in his arms, straddling him on his chair as he kissed the very breath from me. He groaned, his mouth leaving mine to trail down my cheek to my neck where he nuzzled against me. “Fuck, I’m conflicted.” 

Licking my lips, I fought against rocking against him, thinking if he were that fucking close I’d rather not waste it. “Why?” I was still breathless. 

“Part of me wants to tug that bow and open my present right fucking here and now,” I nodded, liking that idea fucking a lot. “Another part of me wants to wait until we get to that fucking bed where I can spread you out and open you up exactly the way I love to.” Jesus, maybe door two wasn’t such a bad fucking idea. 

I felt one of his hands leave my back and then he tugged pulled from below me. And then he stood, forcing me to wrap my legs around his waist. I saw over his shoulder his abandoned jeans, boots, and underwear and nearly laughed. Nearly because that was when his mouth met my shoulder and I felt his teeth grazing my skin. Fuck. My hands went to his head, holding his face to my skin, wanting to feel more. 

And then we were in our room and I was back on my feet in front of him. Before his hand could reach for the tie holding my dress on, I tugged his t-shirt up and over his head. Naked Negan was something I would never get enough of seeing, or enjoying. He smiled as his hand finally reached out and slowly pulled the bow free. As my dress parted, I watched his eyes drink in the present that I’d wrapped so carefully for him and I heard him inhale through his nose, and his free hand clench. 

That’s the very last thing I noticed, because he had me on the bed in no time flat. And my legs were wrapped around his hips, he was deep inside of me and I felt what I’d always feel with him. The overwhelming feeling of being home, of pleasure, of power and HIM. 

Negan’s date night was amazing. Until I had to remind him of a reality that I think he’d pushed out of his mind. The fact that we weren’t going to be able to finish our lovemaking in the same amazing way we normally would. I wasn’t prepared to go through childbirth again so soon, and he most certainly wasn't willing to go another six weeks without me, so I had to negotiate with him in a way that most men may have once dreamed for. 

“Negan?” I was whispering in his ear as he was climbing toward his own release, a feeling I knew well from our months together. “Baby, you know you can’t-”

He growled, pulling his head away from where he’d buried it in my shoulder, still thrusting toward that final goal. His eyes locked on mine, almost daring me to stop him. 

“Sweetheart,” I tried, my hands cupping his face, not stopping the delicious feeling of him sliding through me. “Think back to your favorite porn movie.” His eyes widened. “Where would you rather? Skin or mouth?” And his eyes closed as he moaned at the mere thought of it. “Your fantasy, baby, just not the usual one.” 

Later, wrapped around one another in an entirely different, yet still intimate way, I felt him laugh silently. Looking up, his eyes met mine and he stopped trying to hide the sound. I shook my head. “You gonna share the joke?” 

“You.” I raised an eyebrow. “Not YOU, but when you had to tell me that we couldn’t,” his laughter came again. “Shit, telling me to think about porn and then pick nearly ruined your whole fucking problem, baby.” 

I giggled. “I forgot,” I said, cupping his face with my hand. “I meant to bring it up earlier, but then-”

“Distracted,” he leaned forward and kissed me. “We were pretty fucking distracted.” 

“You know you have another choice?” I offered, feeling butterflies in my stomach at the thought of how final this other choice would be. 

His raised eyebrow was all I got to continue. “Vasectomy.” One word and I could swear ALL the air left the room. 

“You want that fucking quack downstairs to come near my fucking cock and balls with a scalpel?” I bit my lip, he wasn’t screaming, it was a quiet roar. “Do you only want one kid?” And the hurt that came after was more upsetting to me than the first. 

“I didn’t say that, Negan.” I answered, pulling the sheets up around me and rolling onto my own pillow. “I just thought I should say it’s an option.” 

“A fucking horrible option.” He answered, tugging me off my pillow and back onto his chest. “We’ve been apart enough, Callie, don’t fucking make my head explode.” His lips met my forehead. “I like the porn option.” 

I chuckled. “Good, because I don’t hate it, either.”


	43. The Interlude...Just What Did Negan's Present Look Like?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, well this was what took that damn chapter so long...Finding the RIGHT outfit for Callie to wrap herself up in so Negan could have something amazing to unwrap...

The wrapping paper is incredibly important for a gift like this... With Callie's auburn hair, her green eyes, and her new curves, she had to search for JUST the right one:

Here's the deal, shoes... I think that everyone is pretty much out of practice in wearing heels *she's not one of the WIVES after all*...so she'd want something that wouldn't make her look like a goofball or clumsy...

*added bonus, Negan could leave these on during and wouldn't be impaled by the heel...*

Now without further ado...Here's the lingerie she picked *remember she's six weeks out of baby having, so she wants the added push up and push in*

*Can't you just SEE his fucking face when the wrap comes open and THIS is what he sees?!*

Only you know, naked...and grabby hands...


	44. Night Turns to Day...And In Daylight, The Truth Comes Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After our first full night in six weeks, I'm shocked the building didn't catch fire...
> 
> So why, during breakfast does reality have to come rushing in?

Negan and I wanted so badly to spend every second of our first night together wrapped up in one another. Six weeks seemed like six years, because neither of us could get enough of touching, tasting, tempting, and teasing on one another until we were panting, moaning, whimpering, or screaming. If anyone had pressed their ear against the door to our bedroom they may have assumed we were torturing each other for information. 

I begged him for more, he pleaded with me for release. And once we got past the first issue with just where Negan should finish, we never stopped again. We finally, through sheer need for sleep, gave up to our exhaustion. Pressed skin to skin, letting our breathing sync, my head against his chest, I felt the pull of sleep. 

“I love you, Callie.” He whispered into my hair and dropped a kiss onto my head. 

Snuggling closer, pulling the sheets up over us, I smiled. “I love you, Negan, more than life itself.” A kiss to his bare chest and I was out. 

Our mornings returned to normal. The normal from before, with a few adjustments. He learned to wake us up before our angel could cry for her breakfast. And just like he took ample glee in beating the delivery of our breakfast before our kitchen was added, he took the utmost joy in getting his dessert before she got her first feeding of the day. 

We’d all have breakfast, me feeding Kiara, him cooking ours. And then, she’d get a sink bath, and her mommy and daddy would get their shower. Balance was the new goal and we were learning how to balance our family life. 

The world at large, hell the world outside our bubble, seemed to fade into my background. We were sitting at breakfast, Negan eyeing me as I finished feeding the baby when I asked for his runners to look for something for me. 

“A breast pump,” I said, meeting his eyes. “If they find me a breast pump, then you can feed her even when the formula runs out.” He was considering it, when a knock came to the door of the apartment. 

I was only dressed in his t-shirt and my panties, since I’d started losing the baby weight with my new exercise program overseen by Negan. And he was shirtless in his jeans, barefoot and curious. Opening the door, I could see half of Arat’s face and the half I saw wasn’t giving me a good feeling. 

“What?” Negan asked, not in greeting, but in question to whatever she’d told him when he opened the door. I wondered what happened that couldn’t have been told over the radio, but then he groaned and shot a glance over at me. Shit.  
A few more moments of chatter, and his hand ran down his face as he dismissed her and turned to me. Closing the door, he took a deep breath and his eyes met mine. Damn it. 

“Callie,” he was walking closer and I could see that whatever he had to say wasn’t going to be something good or calming. “Hilltop and the Kingdom, they’re hitting outposts.” Fuck. “I’m gonna have to-”

I swallowed hard and looked down at our baby, she’d finished, and was looking up at me waiting to be burped. “Kill them?” I asked, wondering if he’d issue the order or if he’d go himself. “There’s something I should tell you.” 

Negan stared at me, having taken Kiara to burp, cradling her in his arms and looking at me as though he couldn’t believe I hadn’t told him about Maggie before. I knew he wanted to be angry, wanted to tell me how important the news was and how I’d failed him. He couldn’t, not looking down at our daughter, not seeing her tiny face staring up at him. My hair, since hers was darkening as she grew, and his eyes staring back at him. 

“How old?” Maggie’s baby. How old would her baby be now? 

I thought back. She’d been pregnant before me, so the baby would be a little older than Kiara. “A few months older than her.” I watched him, watched him study her and consider what I was saying. I waited. Feeling like lead was filling me, keeping me rooted to my chair. 

“She’d attack now?” He was wondering how a mother of a baby would want this, now. “Why would it be important NOW?” 

“Glenn.” One name, and his eyes met mine again. “And Abraham,” because I knew she wasn’t alone. Not a chance. “It’s why I wanted-”

“You didn’t tell me.” His voice was quiet, but I could hear it, the disappointment. “You didn’t tell me, Callie.” 

I shook my head. “I couldn’t, Negan.” He had to see, had to understand. This wasn’t MY story to tell. “When you told me that Dad hadn’t included them, I didn’t know if he hadn’t mentioned them to keep them off your radar, or if he TOLD you himself.” It was a weak argument, but fairly accurate. “She was pregnant, Negan. I didn’t know if-”

“If what, Callie? If I’d attack her when she was expecting? If I’d send someone to remind her of my-” He stopped, Kiara was starting to fuss, feeling his tension. “I thought we told one another everything. I thought you-”

My heart clenched. “It wasn’t my secret to tell, Negan.” I was whispering, terrified that he hated me. That he’d see this as the worse betrayal and hate me. “The night Glenn-” I stopped seeing his eyes flash. “She was being taken to Hilltop because of some issues she was having with her pregnancy.” 

“Which is a perfect fucking reason to have told me,” his eyes were still locked on mine, even as he held Kiara up to his shoulder and rocked her. “I can’t LEAD, I can’t keep us safe, Callie, if I DON’T know.” 

I looked down at my hands, clasped tightly in my lap. He was right, but he also didn’t get that I couldn’t tell him things that would hurt my family. ANY of my family. Even if he wasn’t the source of the harm. “I’m sorry.” I felt my eyes burn. I felt my throat tighten. I felt more anguish now than I think I had when he told me that they weren’t included in his and Dad’s treaty. 

“Me too.” I looked up and found him hovering over me. His free hand cupped my cheek. “Sweetheart, we have no secrets, no fucking secrets, from this point on.” It was a demand, but it wasn’t unreasonable. Not really. 

I nodded and he leaned down to brush my lips with his. My eyes closed and I felt myself relax slightly. “What now?” I asked, when he pulled back. 

Kiara was gurgling and her tiny hand was smacking at his neck. He smiled at her and then looked back down at me. “I guess, I have to have a chat with the widow.” Shit.


	45. I'm Negan...OK Not Me...I'm NOT Negan, but I Find Out Just Who Negan Is...Wait, what?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK, should I have told my husband that the widow of a man he killed in cold blood beside her was alive and had a child slightly older than our little one? Maybe. Possibly. OK, yeah, I no doubt should have. 
> 
> Danger is a reality in our world, but a danger that I could have helped him prepare for? Well that's something that Negan wants to remind me NEVER to do again...And ooh boy, will I remember. 
> 
> So will he, when he comes home safe and sound...because I swear on all that's good and holy, if he managed to- Let's just say, Maggie Rhee will be the least of his worries.

Negan didn’t rush off to face Maggie. Of course he didn’t. Many things could be said about my husband, but being unprepared (for anything other than pregnancy) wasn’t one of them. After Kiara was fed, burped, and bathed he drew me into our shower and we took our time savoring one another. He was tense, as he should have been, and I wanted to show him that I was sorry for being a part of that tension.

I was on my knees, kneeling for him as I ONLY did in private, looking up at him as he watched me take him in my mouth. His hands, not in my hair or on my head, but were braced against the tiles behind me. He let me show him just how much I worshiped him, so unlike his people, but much more welcome I liked to believe. I felt his thighs tighten under my hands, but before he went over the edge he pulled away.

“Callie,” God that rough, deep voice of his would undo me entirely. “Come here, princess.” And then I was in his arms, his lips on mine as he lifted me into his arms and slid inside.

I hissed at the feeling. I swore, he filled me in ways that no other man could ever hope to. My back was against the same tiles his hands had been braced against, and he took such a torturously slow pace that I wondered if this was his idea of punishment. He pulled back from my mouth, watching me as I arched against him, smiling as my lips released pleas to him. Begging him for more, for faster thrusts, for harder strokes. I needed MORE.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” His eyebrow arched, and his hips rocked into me. “I’m not sure I understand what you need, Callie.”

I was trying, desperately NOT to scream. Kiara was just outside the bathroom. Just outside the closed door. I wasn’t sure that the water, the door, or hell, the building would hold my screams if I let them go. But I could see, in those glittering dark eyes of his, in that smile, that he wanted me to. That he wanted me to scream and beg. That he would get it, because otherwise, I’d be in this merciless limbo.

“Fuck, Negan.” My nails dug into his shoulders as I tried, desperately to arch into him and force his hand, but his own hands were clutching my hips and held me tight. “PLEASE,” I begged, eyes closing as his pelvis stilled against mine. “PLEASE, NEGAN.”

“Please what?” Damn him. “Please what, Callie?” His voice was quiet, urging and tempting me to let go and give him what he wanted so badly. His due, I realized, since I’d put him at a disadvantage.

“Fuck me, Negan.” My eyes locked on his and I arched, fighting against his bruising fingers. “Now, fuck me, hard, fast. Mark me.” And that did it, the words, not a scream, but a plea.

“There it is.” He whispered, as his hips snapped into me. I fought against closing my eyes at the feeling coursing through me at his new pace. “I never needed an apology, Callie,” his voice was still low and his eyes were still on mine as he slammed into me, letting it build inside me. “I NEEDED,” a hard thrust that slammed my back into the tiles as his body followed me. “I WANTED you to see that I’m in charge, Callie.” And my legs wrapped around his hips, as I rode his hard thrusts and bit my lip. “That I’m NEGAN.” That was all it took for me, his voice, those eyes, and that fucking pressure undid me. “And, princess?” I watched as he kept thrusting, as I chased him for another mind blowing explosion. “This time? I’m finishing EXACTLY where I want to.”

We were dressed, and I was a tad pissed as we sat down on the couch to discuss what Negan’s next move would be. Why was I pissed? Guess where the master of the fucking universe wanted to finish? Just take a wild fucking guess.

I swore, as I looked at his sexy, smug ass sitting next to me, that I’d smother his crazy ass if I found out I was pregnant again so soon. For fuck’s sake, Kiara wasn’t even a year old yet. Dumb, handsome dickhead.

“Callie,” he started, clearly seeing my face. “Sweetheart-”

“Don’t.” I cut him off before I CUT him off. “That’s a discussion for another time. Let’s discuss Maggie Rhee.”

And we did. I explained Maggie’s past. How she became part of our group, part of my family, and now a threat to my new family. I told him about Hershel. About Glenn. About the fucking barn. About the prison. About Terminus. I told him the past that I hadn’t shared, not until now.

“Rick ripped a guy’s throat out with his teeth?” He whistled. “Shit, I knew he was fucking crazy, but not like fucking psycho.” Hark who’s talking I thought.

“Yeah, Carl told me when we all got back together.” I closed my eyes at the memory of being separated. “Some assholes called ‘Claimers’ threatened to rape my baby brother.” I shrugged it off and opened my eyes to see my husband watching me carefully. “The point is, Negan, that while Dad and Carl were dealing with that, Maggie was searching for Glenn. They ALWAYS found one another, and you-”

“Fucking bashed his brains in.” He rubbed a hand down his face. “Shit.” Yeah, really. “What about the ginger?”

“Abraham?” I asked, wondering why he’d ask about him. Fuck. “Oh. Yeah, you met Rosita.” He raised an eyebrow. “She um,” I glanced at Lucille, at the knick I could still see from the bullet. “Shot your other girl.”

He glared. At the memory or at the idea that he’d left a threat alive. “Any more dangers lurking nearby?”

I nearly snorted. “Sasha.” He looked at me like he couldn’t believe all his issues were going to be led by women. Hello, harem boy. “The ginger was popular with the ladies.” Like you, asshole. I shrugged at the look he was shooting me. I was going to warn him that he’d better survive the three of them and their salvos of war when I chill ran through me. “Negan? How did Carl find you?”

He knew, as soon as I asked what I meant. His eyes closed and I wondered if he knew, or if he was as worried as me. “Shit, fuck.” He stood up and grabbed the bat. “I have to call a meeting, Callie. Fuck.” And I knew, as he walked out the door after kissing me and the baby, that we weren’t safe. None of us.


	46. Another Freaking Interlude...What?  Callie's a Mama Now...

This always happens between chapters *Usually cliffhangers or stressful moments, but ya know*...

I'm trolling Pinterest, and I find it. SOMETHING that just SCREAMS Callie or Negan or them as a couple...OR

Why do I have a feeling that Callie's gonna be feeling this very very soon?


	47. And So...It Begins...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maggie's first salvo, wasn't actually the first...

Negan came back late into the evening. He looked exhausted. Just inside the door, with it closed behind him, he leaned against it and sighed. I knew, from the way his head was down, Lucille dangling from his grip, that he’d had a long hard time of it. 

“Have you eaten?” I called out to him, quietly. Kiara was in her crib in the nursery, down for the night. 

His eyes met mine and I waited. “I had them bring me something from the kitchens.” I nodded. He pushed off from the door and slowly made his way to the sofa. I’d waited up, reading while curled into the corner of the sofa, or trying to read. Mostly I worried. Not just about us, and our safety, but about Maggie. Her son. Her people.

He sat down heavily beside me, placing Lucille on the coffee table in front of us. I felt him slump into the back of the couch and waited. Negan would talk when he wanted to. He’d share his worries, or ask for my input when he needed it. I wouldn’t have to ask. 

“Fuck today was a long goddamn day.” He sighed, his head leaning against the back of the sofa. His hand reached out and pulled me closer to him. “Everyone has an idea for handling the situation, none of them are worth shit.” I felt his lips against my hair. “Her kid is a baby, Callie.” He was whispering and I knew he was thinking about Kiara, about OUR baby asleep in the next room. “Fuck, I wish-”

I moved so I could bury my face in his chest and take in the scent of him. A leathery musk that was uniquely Negan. “I wish that it wasn’t happening too.” I murmured into his shirt. “That I’d told you. That we’d dealt with it early on. That Dad had disclosed all of it.” I felt Negan’s hands on my back holding me to him. “What if I tried?” 

“Tried what, Callie?” His fingers were tugging the elastic holding my braid tight to free my hair. I closed my eyes at the feeling of him loosening the braid, his fingers sliding through the curls. 

“To talk to Maggie.” I answered, shifting so I could look up into his face. His fingers kept brushing through my hair. “Mother to mother. Family member to family member.” I felt his fingers still. “We knew each other so well, Negan.” I sighed. “At least we did-”

“Before we fell in love?” He asked, his eyes tightening. “Sweetheart, I can’t let you- I can’t watch while you-” He stopped, his eyes closing and he swallowed hard. “What if she decides you’re the cost?” 

“For Glenn?” I ask, forcing him to open his eyes and look down at me. “You’re scared that Maggie would kill me in retaliation for Glenn’s death?” He nodded, mouth a thin line. “Maggie wouldn’t-”

He was staring at me like he had something to tell me that he didn’t want to and fear started growing inside me. “Radioed Rick,” shit, what did Dad have to say? “She knows, Callie. About you and me, about Kiara. She knows, and she still attacked the outposts.” I closed my eyes, fuck. “I’m hoping it’s just to try to draw me out, and NOT because she’s planning a full frontal assault here.” Would Maggie do that? Would she attack us, knowing that my daughter, that dad’s granddaughter was here? 

“She wouldn’t.” I felt my heart beating so hard Negan had to hear it. “She wouldn’t do that.” I don’t know if I believed it, or if I was trying to convince myself. “Did you ask Carl-”

His fingers brushed my cheeks and my eyes opened to see him studying me. He nodded. “Your little brother found out where the Sanctuary was with the help of a friend named Jesus. He’s Maggie’s right hand man, apparently.” Fuck, shit. “Princess, I will keep you safe.” 

“I’m not worried about me, Negan.” I glared up at him, the idea of it. “I’m worried about Kiara, and I’m freaking out because of you.” I leaned into him, my face against his shirt. Breathing him in, trying to find some type of calm. “I meant my vows, Negan, I can’t live without you. Or I can, but I don’t fucking want to.” I groaned. “Do you think if you’d known-”

“No.” Negan answered, sure and quick. “I don’t think knowing would have stopped it.” His eyes were locked on mine and I realized he believed what he was saying. “I’d have been forewarned, sure, but Maggie Rhee would still have come for me, Callie. Her and the other two you mentioned.”

“Sasha and Rosita?” I asked, staring at him. “What? What happened?”

He sighed and leaned his head back, looking up at the ceiling. “While we were getting ready for Kiara’s arrival, there were a few attempts.” What?! “Simon and some of the others thought they could keep it down, fucking worked well, right?” I watched as he rubbed his face. “Callie, knowing about her, them would have helped, but you weren’t the only one not telling me shit. Fuck, I hate this.” 

He pulled me onto his lap and buried his face in my neck once he pushed my now loose hair over my shoulder. I felt his lips brushing my pulse point, feeling the steady pounding there and breathing in my scent as I had his. “Tell me what to do, Negan.” I whispered. 

His arms locked around me and I was in his arms and he was walking to our bedroom. “We’re gonna get lost in one another, Callie. We’re gonna forget, just for tonight, and then, in the morning, we’re going to plan.”


	48. The Things I Do For "RESEARCH"...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y'all best appreciate me...I mean I work SO hard to find JUST the right sources of inspiration for my stories...The amount of TORTURE I inflict upon myself for YOU, my darling readers...*Shakes head* *WINKS*

So...I CLEARLY have this very strange, yet very very hot fetish about Negan and showers...

Here's WHY:

I mean:

Can YOU blame me, if THIS is what I see when I think about waking up with this man in the morning?!

Just mornings with NEGAN....FUCK.

And, my mind explodes....

This is my gentle assurances to you, my darling readers, that I AM writing... and coming up with new things and chapters...Hang on tight!


	49. Tense?  Who's Tense?  Um...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who wouldn't be fucking tense right now? Maggie Rhee is thirsty for Negan's blood...and she has Rosita and Sasha backing her. Why won't my gorgeous fucking husband understand that I have inside information? That I could, as a mother, and a family member TALK to Maggie, discuss things like rational human beings? Because he's the most uptight, over protective man in the HISTORY of FOREVER.

Negan wouldn’t give in to my attempts to talk him into letting me be intermediary with Maggie. He was terrified that her anger with him would be unleashed on me, no matter how much I argued against that logic. I knew Maggie. I knew that she was reasonable and rational, even in her pain. She had to have a nugget of who she would always be tucked inside her. And mother to mother, we could figure it out.

He wouldn’t listen. He couldn’t. If he took me at my insistence and something happened to me, I knew he would feel the loss as deeply as I’d feel the loss of him. It was tempting to just keep the conversation away from Maggie, Rosita, and Sasha and Negan’s plans to fix what had gone terrifyingly wrong. It was far too tempting to want to spend our time as a family or, when Kiara was napping or down for the night, lost in one another. Making memories, of our little family, or as a couple, reminding one another how much we loved each other.

Tempting, but not possible. Negan wore his tension like another layer of clothes, and this layer took far longer to strip away. It would start to fall as soon as he could pick up our daughter. He’d find some peace in feeling her tiny body cradled into his hands and arms. Hearing her babble and baby giggle at her daddy would make some of the tightness around his eyes start to lessen, feeding her, holding her and talking bits of baby talk to her would help him calm as I made our dinner. And once that she was fed, diapered and down for the evening, it would be up to me to tear away the rest, or as much of it as I could.

We’d have dinner, we’d have to discuss parts of his day, whether he wanted to or not. I had to know. I had to prepare. If I had to set up a fucking vigil when he walked out the damn door, I wanted to be forewarned. And after dinner, after cleaning up, we’d walk into our bedroom and I’d take time to remind him of us. Of all the reasons that he was HERE with me. And like he reminded me every morning that waking up was worth it, I’d spend every fucking night reminding him of why I couldn’t lose him.

I was crawling up his body after having removed each piece of his clothing, slowly and with laser focus showing him how every single inch of his body was fully loved. OK, I skipped his feet. I hate feet. The rest of him? I worshiped every single other bit of him. Once I was hovering over his prone body, his face just below my own, I saw it had worked. The tension, the stress, it wasn’t completely gone, but I’d relaxed him to the point where all I could see was pure love and need for me. My lips met his and he rolled us, smiling against my lips.

“I think you’re trying to distract me, princess.” He whispered as his hands slid down my sides. I arched up, trying to connect with his body, but he was feeling far more playful now. Jesus, this went the exact opposite from what I wanted. His lips met my neck and I lost my indignation. Fuck.

“Distraction?” I nearly moaned the word. And my hips arched up again, nothing, his hands were clamped on my hips and holding them down on the mattress. “Why would I be distracting you?” Fuck, please, damn it.

“To keep my mind off of the utter bullshit I’m dealing with daily.” A nip to my collarbone and I hissed at the scrape of his teeth. “You like that, Callie?” His teeth slid across my shoulder and I inhaled sharply. “Teeth? I thought you didn’t like marks, sweetheart?” I moaned as he nibbled down my arm. “Is it because we’re married now?” He was sucking on my rib cage now, flicking his tongue against my skin. “Do you want every goddamn person in this fucking building to know just who you belong to, Callie?” He was working his way back up my body, still keeping all the parts that I was most needing nibbled the fuck on longing. His mouth met my neck again. I felt his teeth and his lips and my eyes rolled back and my lids closed. Fuck. “Can I show every fucking asshole in this fucking building that you’re mine, sweetheart?” His tongue, Jesus Christ, was tasting my skin. “Can I, Callie?”

My hand tangled into his hair and I pulled him away from my neck and back so his face was over mine. “Fucking stop teasing, Negan.” I tried to pull him down to me, but he resisted, and he’s far fucking stronger than me. “Yes, you fucker, you can mark me! For fuck’s sake, do whatever the fuck you want, just fucking do it already you fucking tease!”

And with a dark chuckle he did.

I woke up in a tangle with Negan. I wasn’t sure there was a way that we could have gotten closer, or that I could have woken up without waking him.

“Morning, sweetheart.” His morning voice was almost enough on its own to make mornings worthwhile. Almost. “Jesus, I think you tried to fucking kill me last night.”

I smiled up at him and he kissed me. “Are you really going to complain about last night?” Pulling back I drank in the absolute breathtaking image of my husband in the morning light. Shit, was I accidentally becoming a fucking morning person? “I think we were LONG overdue for a night like last night.”

“Callie, that was NOT a complaint.” And then I was on my back and he took over with my reminder that I didn’t have ANY complaints about waking up with my husband in the morning.


	50. Of All the Pigheaded Men in the World, I Had to Marry the Biggest One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'd married Negan. I'd given birth to our daughter. I'd even, with some grace, gotten used to being his "Queen". 
> 
> Now that danger is growing in the form of Maggie Rhee and Negan has gone full on overprotective husband/father, I think it's high time he realized that I have MANY talents. And that maybe, just maybe he's underestimated me.

I had to hand it to my husband. He marked me in all the places that could be covered easily by my clothes. Apparently Negan was teachable. Too bad I didn't have the same luck convincing him that I would be USEFUL in talking Maggie down from murdering him. 

“Callie, I’m not going to put you in her cross-hairs.” He’d say, effectively cutting off my argument every single time.

Until finally, I was pushed to do something. I was FORCED to do it. Honestly what did he expect? I had to keep him safe. To keep our family safe. And he was being pigheaded. 

I knew the frequency that Alexandria was on the walkie talkies. I used it now and then, since we still hadn’t found a chance to visit with Kiara. While Negan was closeted away with his soldiers, I took the walkie in my shaking hand, and called up Dad.

We chatted about mild and non-controversial topics at first. How well Kiara was growing. How dark her hair was turning. How her eyes really were just like Negan’s. I asked about Judith. How was she? Did she miss me? Once the ‘how are theys’ were exhausted, I finally had to get to the reason for my ‘call’.

“Dad, I need to be there.” I heard him sigh, but I knew he understood. “Negan is being too protective. You know that. I know that. Maggie and I were close once.”

“Callie,” Dad started to say, but I heard Michonne in the background. Their side of the conversation went silent as Dad took his finger off the button, but then he came back. “Maybe you have a point. Maggie is still grieving, and Hershel’s birth didn’t really alleviate it.” 

I felt my chest clench at the thought of her having their baby without Glenn next to her. “Of course it didn’t. He should have been there.” I knew that that meant that I was saying that Negan had done something inexcusable, but in this case he had. Glenn had been collateral damage, I knew that, but it was hit that was one too far. “I want to talk to her, mother to mother, Dad. I want her to see Kiara. I want to see Hershel. If everything hadn’t happened the way it had-”

“Do you think you and Negan would have met if things hadn’t gone like they had?” He asked, and I knew he was asking it for two different reasons. He was curious, and he wanted me to THINK about it logically. 

“Yes.” I said it without hesitation. “We were meant to meet, Dad. Just like Glenn and Maggie would have met somehow without the dead coming back to life.” I was certain of it. “Just like, you and Michonne would have come across one another, sooner or later.” We all were meant to find one another and there was a saying ‘love finds a way’. 

“How would this work?” Dad wasn’t saying no, he wanted logistics. “How are you going to meet with Maggie, mother to mother?”

Sighing, I closed my eyes. “I don’t know. I just know that this is what needs to happen, Daddy. I need to see her. I need her to SEE me. To see that I’m still me.” 

Our conversation lasted a few more minutes, and we had a less than fleshed out plan. He promised to try to talk Negan around to my way of thinking, but admitted that I had a better chance of that than him. Then, after a promise to kiss my angel for each of my family members, and getting a promise in return to have them kiss my baby sister for me, I said goodbye. 

Kiara was ready for lunch by that point, and I knew that Negan would be up to see us both. He seemed to need to reassure himself that we were safe and healthy more and more often. And I hoped that I could talk sense into him. 

I was just settling into my rocking chair when I heard our door open. Looking up I saw Negan looking like a thundercloud. Shit. Luckily, Kiara had just latched onto my chest and so he was blocked from his rampage, for now. 

“Hey, honey,” I offered, trying to sound as normal and unconcerned as I could.

“Sweetheart,” he bit out and I flinched. “You and Rick have a nice chat?” Fuck, suspicion proven. I looked down at Kiara and watched her nurse, gathering my thoughts, and honestly somewhat glad he knew. 

“Yep.” I answered, rubbing her soft curls. “You’re hungry today, aren’t you, Pooh-Bear?” Her eyes were locked on mine as she suckled and I smiled down at her as her daddy threw himself onto the sofa in front of me. “Daddy’s like a big grizzly bear right now, isn’t he?” She smiled around my boob, but kept drinking. “He is funny, isn’t he?”

“Funny?” I broke away from our daughter’s sweet face to look up and find him still glaring, but the heat was partially gone. “Is Daddy really funny?” A test, or a dare I knew. 

“Yes, he is.” I nodded. “If he wasn’t so funny, Mommy would think that he assumed that he knew Maggie better than she did. That he ASSUMED that Mommy wasn’t as much of a warrior as he was. And that wouldn’t be funny, it would be stupid.” 

His glare was back to full force now. “Careful, princess.” A warning? Honestly, this man should know me better than that.

“Careful?” I knew my own tone had gone just as dangerous as his could be, and I saw a slight widening of his eyes at the change. “You think I should be careful?” Deadly, that’s what my dad had called the tone I’d dropped into, which was apt, because right now I felt pretty fucking deadly. “You know what I think, Negan? I think you should be very fucking careful in thinking that you’re lord on high with me, because I promise you this, it will not end well for you.” And with that, I ignored him while I fed our daughter.

Once Kiara was finished, I handed her to him carefully, making sure to not let my skin touch his. If Negan thought that he would be the one making all the rules in our house, well he was about to learn that that was NOT going to fly with me.

After he burped her and changed her diaper, I told him his lunch was on the table. Then I took Kiara to her nursery and put her down for a nap. When I came back I saw him studying his food with more interest than he had in a long time.

“I didn’t poison it,” I rolled my eyes and grabbed my own plate. Sitting across from him, I picked up my fork and began to eat. He mirrored me and we ate in silence for a few minutes. 

“You don’t understand,” he broke the quiet first, score one for me. 

I raised an eyebrow daring him to continue. He swallowed another forkful of his lunch and studied me. “I think YOU don’t understand, Negan.” He shot me a look. “Did you listen in or did someone else?” 

“I have all the frequencies being monitored, when Simon,” of course it was that little fucking weasel, “heard your talk with Rick go from updates about Jade, he came to me.”

“Snitch.” I muttered, glaring at my husband. “Don’t you trust me?” He looked at me like I lost my mind. “Why else would you have someone listening in on my private conversations HOME?”

“Considering what I heard-” I knew he stopped because of the look that crossed my face. I knew because I’d had many different people stop when they insinuated that their eavesdropping was justified by what they’d heard shut up when I gave the same look.

“Are you trying to make listening in on my private conversations reasonable because THIS time you caught me discussing something that involves ALL of us?” My voice was barely a whisper, but it held all the ire and danger of a scream. 

“Sweetheart,” he tried, clearly thinking that if he gave me the term of endearment he often used it would diffuse the situation. Wrong.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” I warned. And was gratified to see him gulp. “I admitted when I was wrong. I apologized for not telling you about Maggie’s survival. I let you-” I took a deep breath to steady myself before I went full on screaming banshee. “You took me in that shower, all lord and mighty, and I didn’t fucking argue. Now it’s my turn.” His eyes were almost saucers, clearly he hadn’t met this version of me. “I KNOW Maggie Rhee. We were FRIENDS. IF things had been different, then we would be RAISING OUR CHILDREN together. You fucked up and made her an enemy. Now you have to let ME fix it. Do you get that, Mr. Sanctuary Savior? Can that reality pierce that thick fucking skull of yours?” He was staring at me like his father had finally made an appearance in all his pitchforked glory. “You trying to negotiate with a mother who YOU made a widow isn’t going to work, don’t you get that? So you have to let me, NO, let me rephrase that. I demand to do this. You want people to kneel for me? Why can’t I show that I deserve it first?”

He stared at me as I gestured toward his lunch, silently urging him to finish it. Then I laid out the plan that had started to form as I had ranted to him. A plan that I wasn’t sure would work, but that I hoped would give us some sort of peace. Because I’d hate to be proven wrong, especially since being wrong in this case would mean being dead.


	51. Overprotective Dick, Thy Name Is...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan seriously didn't know who the fuck he was challenging when he took me on.. But, I think he does now.

After Negan and I had our very tense discussion about whether or not I would act as his fucking housewife while he ran off and undoubtly made the situation worse without me, we came to an useasy agreement. He was uneasy with the reality that I was NOT in fact a fucking princess needing to be guarded, and I was in agreement that I knew best.

I knew that meeting Maggie on neutral soil had to be first on the agenda. Alexandria would be the knee jerk reaction to go with, but I wanted her to KNOW that I came to talk. When I said, The Kingdom, Negan’s eyebrows rose so high on his fucking forehead I almost worried they’d jump off and take flight.

“The Kingdom is the ONLY neutral place left,” I offered, ignoring the scavenger’s junkyard. I didn’t trust the woman Dad had told me about who ruled there. “If I ask Maggie to meet me there, she’ll know that it’s truly to talk.”

After discussing how I would broach the issue at hand, Negan’s head on her silver platter, I told him the part of the plan I knew would be the toughest sell. KJ had to be with me.

“Abso-fucking-lutely not, Callie!” He roared, and I thought that it would be a miracle if the workers on the first floor didn’t fucking hear him. “She’s NOT fucking going anywhere fucking near these people.”

I had to shut my eyes so I wouldn’t scream right fucking back at him. One of us had to stay rational, especially if we wanted to survive this newest kink. After counting slowly to ten, like Dad had always tried to fucking tell me to, I opened my eyes to see Negan looking like he was considering tossing my tiny ass out the nearest damn window.

Taking a deep breath through my nose, warning myself NOT to fucking dare him to try, I finally felt calm enough to argue my case. Actually I put my goddamn foot down harder than he did. “She WILL be going with me, Negan. She’s OUR daughter, not just yours, and if anything she’s fucking proof that you’re a fucking human and not a goddamn monster.” His jaw was clenched and I could almost hear his own count happening in his head. “Maggie has to SEE her, Negan. She has to SEE that killing you would be making her LIKE you.” And I knew, as he sighed loudly that he understood, finally. Maggie Greene-Rhee would rather be dead than have anything in common with my husband.

I radioed Dad again, a few hours later, asking if he could send word to Maggie that I wanted to talk. On the radio at first, and then, if we could I wanted to meet with her face to face. I knew, and so did Negan and Dad, that Maggie could be listening to all of our conversations. Hell, they listened to anything they could get access to, so turnabout.

While I waited, Negan and I went back to a semi-normal routine. Some might assume that after we had our first REAL argument that our evening would have been cold and one of us might have been relegated to the sofa for the night. Yeah, well those people haven’t paid a bit of attention to our fucking relationship.

Once Jade was asleep for the night in her crib, after dinner was finished and the dishes washed, I went to our bedroom with Negan hot on my heels. All that pent up aggression, brought onto both of us by the other’s stubbornness came slamming out and instead of give and take our lovemaking became an outlet for our irritation.

He was shocked by the fierceness of my fingers tearing his clothes from him, but he recovered quickly, ripping my own from my body. Our kissing was like a battle for control, teeth and tongues, and the noises? Thank god, I thought, biting into his shoulder as he threw me onto our bed and slammed down on top of me, that our walls were thick.

Morning dawned, and for once neither of us moved. He was holding me, my head on his chest and I knew he was awake and also knew he knew I was. I felt his fingers gently touch the tangle of my hair on my shoulder, more tentative than any other time he’d touched me. My own fingers began teasing small circles on his chest, thinking that we would always surprise one another.

“I love you,” he whispered, so quiet that I almost didn’t hear him. “I do, Callie, but you make me fucking crazy.”

I smiled into his skin, and kissed gently at the scratch marks I felt. “Yeah, well it takes fucking crazy to know one, babe.” Propping my chin on his chest so I could look into his face, I smiled. “I love you too, you overprotective dick.”

His thumb traced my lips and then my cheek. “I will fucking die if something happens to one of you, you get that right?” I sighed. “I can’t argue with your plan, Callie, I want to, but fuck if you aren’t probably fucking right.”

“I won’t let her be hurt,” our little one, the angel that kept us grounded. “I would want to fucking die if anything happened to her--OR you.” The thought of it made my heart clench painfully. “This will work, Negan, it will. And when it does-”

He rolled me suddenly, hovering over me, cradled between my thighs. He smiled down at me. “Then you’ll let my people fucking bow to their queen.” And he slid gently into me and we made the slowest and softest love of our entire relationship.

By the way, when I write Negan's scenes with Kiara, this is what I see:

He's such a fucking softy. And overprotective dick of a softy...but not a soft dick, just to be clear.


	52. Negan Doesn't Know Best...Told Him So :P

I was alone in our apartment when I finally got a message from Dad that Maggie agreed to speak to me. Knowing that Simon the rat would no doubt be listening in, I asked Dad to give her an unused channel to contact me on, and then I waited for my lovely and not at all overbearing husband to let me know he knew.

Negan sent word that I could expect him for an early dinner. Using Simon, who had the audacity to shoot me a look like I was going to be getting an earful from his fearless leader, who if I wasn’t mistaken he envied far more than he feared, I just rolled my eyes and picked up my daughter from her spot on a blanket I’d laid on the floor. 

“I’m sure I’ll be getting plenty of attention from Negan, and soon,” I made myself sound breathless and sultry, and forced myself not to gag when his eyes roved up and down my body. “Tell him I can’t wait.”

He shut the door behind him, but not before Laura popped inside. Since he’d left the door open during his announcement, I could see that she’d heard every word. “You playing with his stupid ass like a cat does a mouse is my new favorite show, boss.” I laughed as she smirked at me. “He really thinks he knows everything, doesn’t he?”

“If only,” another eye roll as she held out her arms for KJ. With a squeal, my little girl practically launched herself into my guard’s arms. I laughed as I watched Laura morph into her more natural auntie roll, making funny faces and saying silly shit to keep the baby occupied while I heated up a bottle. 

“I’ve got a few runners looking for a pump,” she offered, watching as I carefully mixed the formula out so she could feed her adopted niece. I nodded, and shook the warm water I’d added to the bottle so the formula could mix properly. “Then, you’ll just have to figure out the best way to store your milk so it doesn’t spoil.” Bags or bottles, that was a decision for the day that the pump arrived. 

Laura was still with me when Negan arrived. She was bouncing the baby on her knee as I made our dinner, and he couldn’t hold back a smile at the giggles that were ringing from our daughter’s mouth. 

“This is homey,” he offered, pressing himself into my back and kissing my neck. “What’s for dinner?” 

I showed him what I had cooking and he wrapped himself tighter around me, letting his lips find the soft and sensitive skin just under my ear. Biting back a moan when he nipped at me, I could feel how much he really wanted Laura to take Kiara to her nursery. 

“Me and KJ are gonna go play with her stuffies,” the very observant guard offered, then the door shut quietly behind them. 

Negan turned me to face him and his mouth met mine. A pure surge of want and need shot through me and I nearly forgot the food bubbling away behind me. “Let me just-” But his hands were faster than my brain and I heard him clicking everything off, and then he had me in his arms and sitting on our table. The speed of him, of his need and urgency for me, nearly stopped my heart. But I recovered quickly, my fingers pulling his jacket off, even as he was ripping my shirt over my head. Our ability to disrobe was something that other people envy, as was the speed that we came together, needing one another like most people needed water, air, or food. 

I had a flash of fear, as he pounded into me on top of the table that the damn thing would splinter and break, but I forgot the sexual dexterity of the man who was inside of me. At the first warning creak, I was wrapped around him and he had me pressed into the nearest wall, without so much as a break in his thrusting. I didn’t worry or think about where he was finishing, as long as we were together, tasting one another and feeling our skin pressed together. Nothing else mattered, not at that moment, other than him and me. 

It was over as quickly as it started. Negan was pressed tight against me as my back was tight against the wall, both of us breathing hard and trying to calm the pounding in our veins. I felt the vibration of his laughter and then he pulled back enough so we were face to face.

“It’s never routine with you, Callie,” he whispered, tongue flicking away a drop of sweat that got too close to his lip. “Every fucking time I think, it can’t get better than this,” he was still inside of me, and he shifted his hips a little to remind me of it causing me to gasp, “this fucking happens, and I think it all over again.” 

“I’d apologize,” I whispered, leaning forward to lick another drop that had started a slow descent down his neck, smiling as I felt his hands grip my hips tighter, “but that would be a fucking lie.” Another chuckle and our lips met again, soft and sweet this time, our passion nowhere near sated but not nearly as urgent now. “I love you, you know that?” 

“You mentioned it a time or two,” his smile soft as his forehead and mine pressed together. “And fuck if I don’t love you right fucking back.” 

Laura brought Kiara back in once Negan knocked lightly on the door to the nursery. And I had to hand it to her, she didn’t have one single issue making eye contact with our two randy asses. She took the invitation to stay for dinner, and I asked her to ask Arat to come in too. What was going to be discussed needed all four of us, because Maggie Rhee and I were going to have to have a sit down, with or without my guard.

Maggie called in a few days later on the channel I’d asked her to. I knew we had an audience and she did too, so we kept it brief. She agreed to meet me, we both set stipulations, the Kingdom was agreed on, and then I offered her the lamest goodbye I had at my disposal. 

“I really wish that we weren’t meeting under these circumstances, Mag,” and I could hear her give a soft snort. 

“Same, Cal, same.” And then she sighed off, and I sat back, watching Kiara napping in her playpen and hoped that I knew Maggie as well as I thought I did.


	53. A Meeting with A Side of...

Negan still didn’t love the idea of me going practically alone with Kiara to meet an unknown enemy in a place he didn’t rule with complete authority. He was on edge for days beforehand. I caught him staring at the two of us more times than I could count, and I finally had to tell him that he was making me nervous and giving me a vibe of failure. 

“I just-” he sighed and pulled the two of us on to his lap. Burying his face in the side of my neck while one hand cupped the back of Kiara’s head, sliding through her rapidly growing curls, I felt him heave in a long breath, practically drinking the scent of me in. “What if something happens and I’m not there, Callie?” He sounded like the bad already happened, the pain was so heavy in his voice. “What if-”

“Stop,” I whispered, my hand touching his cheek and forcing him to look up at me. “Don’t do that, Negan, don’t say goodbye or cloud this with doomsday worries.” Kiara mimicked my hand on her daddy’s cheek with her small one on his other side. “See, you’re worrying her,” he leaned into her tiny touch and smiled. “We love you, baby, and we’re going to be FINE.” He kissed her on the forehead and then offered me his lips. Brushing them slightly with my own, I pulled back. “And when we come back, flush with victory, maybe it won’t just be your people who take a knee to me.” His smile grew and I winked down at him. 

I had my own case of nerves when the day finally dawned for my meeting with Maggie. First I had the same rush of fear about my wardrobe I’d had when Dwight told me that I was queen/goddess to the residents in the Sanctuary. Negan was keeping Kiara company on our bed and I knew he wanted to give me suggestions, but feared that I’d shoot them down. 

“Could you stop biting your tongue and pick something out for me already?” I asked, standing in a bra and panty set in front of my open closet. 

“Mommy needs to make up her mind, doesn’t she, princess?” He murmured to our baby before giving her a loud kiss and stalking to my closet. He tugged the dress free and I nearly rolled my eyes. “What?” He asked, seeing the look of disbelief cross my face. “You wanted me to pick, so I fucking picked.” He handed me the plaid dress and smirked. “I think it’ll set a nice fucking tone.”

“Naughty schoolgirl?” I whispered, hearing Kiara giggling behind us. “Not sure that’s a great tone to set with a woman who wants to kill you, but what the hell.” I pulled it on over my underthings, and let it flare around my thighs. “Can you grab those boots?” I pointed at the knee high, flat heeled ones that I hadn’t worn yet and his smile grew. “If I’m playing the part of your fantasy roleplay, let’s go full throttle, shall we, daddy?” 

He groaned as he handed the boots to me. “That word sounds a fuck ton hotter when you say it, baby girl.” I smirked as he had to adjust himself at me uttering one word. 

“Yeah, isn’t it too fucking bad that I have to get going, and you’ll have to take care of this-” I cupped him through his jeans forcing a moan from him. “All by yourself?” 

He shook his head and nearly growled, but knew I was right. “Fucking torture, but maybe I hold off until you get back, make sure that when I take a knee I’m more than ready to truly fucking worship you.” 

That caused a hard clench of lust to ricochet through me. Biting my lip, I shook my head. “I’m going to hold you to that.” And kissing him hard, I pulled away. “Faster I leave-”

“Sooner you’ll get back.” He sighed, worry clouding his face again. “Let’s go, before I fucking tie you to the bed and refuse to let you leave.” 

Laura went with me, no one else, it was one of the conditions of the meeting. Just Laura, me, and Kiara in the truck that Negan had brought me home in. It took less time than I expected, and I hid my surprise at the cosplaying knights that greeted us on horseback to lead us into the Kingdom. Laura almost caused a scene when she was told she’d be staying outside of the theater where I’d be sitting down with Maggie, but a gentle hand on her arm from me stopped her.

“It’s fine,” I soothed, taking Kiara from her along with the fully stocked diaper bag. “I’ll be back and we’ll be fine.” 

The theater was dim, but I could see a table and chairs set up on the stage. Maggie was waiting, along with another familiar face holding a little boy. I smiled, but took my time to make my way up, glancing around to be sure no ambush waited for me. After all, I had precious cargo in my arms. 

“Callie,” Maggie wasn’t smiling, but I hadn’t expected a hug. “I guess this is-” her eyes fell on Kiara and my little girl giggled at the other baby. 

“My daughter, Kiara Jade.” I said, sitting down after dropping the bag next to the empty chair. “Hello, Carol.” The older woman was studying me, and I wondered if she’d gotten her impulses under control since I last saw her. “Your little guy is adorable.” 

Maggie, like any mother would, had to smile at the compliment. “He’s growin’ like a weed.” Then she seemed to remember why we were in the Kingdom. “Did you come to bargain?” 

I shook my head and kept my smile. “No, not bargain, Maggie.” I bounced Kiara on my knee while she played with my braid. “I’ve come to warn you off.” 

My easy manner in saying why I’d asked for the meeting shocked the two women I’d once considered family. That consideration ended when they threatened my husband and family. I failed them, I knew that, but they never once considered me in their path to vengeance, so I felt no compunction in showing them that I meant business. 

“Negan has ordered and done terrible things,” I said, my voice never raising past normal conversational levels. “I won’t excuse him for that, but I will say this-” Smiling at Kiara as she tried to fit her entire fist into her own mouth, I took a moment to compose my words. “If either of you, or the ragtag group you plan on assembling attempt to attack my people again? I will make what Negan HAS done, look like child’s play.” I looked up to see them sharing a look of complete disbelief. They expected groveling or begging, good luck with that. “Remember, ladies, I know where your skeletons are buried, and I haven’t got a single fuck to give about letting the entire world know.” This was said to Carol, my eyes locked on hers as I watched her gulp. 

“So what is this?” Maggie asked, clearly unprepared for my promise of full throttle war if they dared to try me. “Just you comin’ in here to threaten us?”

I chuckled. “God no,” I shrugged. “I wanted to meet baby Herschel. He does look like his daddy, doesn’t he?” I saw her flinch at the reminder. “I wanted you to meet Kiara, my guard calls her KJ, but she’s every bit a princess so I prefer her full first name.” I turned my baby to face the two of them. “Does this look like a baby created by a monster?” I saw them both swallow hard. “My husband, Negan, isn’t inhuman, ladies. He’s simply learned that the path to survival isn’t always paved with good intentions. He tried to warn us, over and over again, but we didn’t listen.” I bit my lip and took a deep breath. “He does regret Glenn’s death, and he definitely regrets you being left a single mother, but he can’t rewind history.” I knew that I was cutting Maggie to the quick, but I refused to live in fear of her or anyone else. “Trust me, let go of the rage, the madness that loss can push on you is horrifying.” I saw them both blanche remember my dad after Mom died, clearly. “Just because you’re focused on revenge doesn’t mean it’s not changing you for the worse, I know that and so do you. But, I also know that when you push it away, when you focus on the GOOD that’s left-” I glanced up at the baby boy still being held by Carol and saw him give me a grin that I returned. “Then life is worth more than just survival.”

After the sudden twist our visit took, I said my goodbyes. I knew I’d given Maggie things to think over. And I knew that Carol would be one of her many sounding boards. Not wanting to threaten/promise, then leave, I mentioned that the next time we met, I hoped it would be under less tense circumstances.

“I think our little ones might like to get to know one another,” I offered, bending down to pick up the bag I’d set down when I arrived. “And they are OUR future, aren’t they?”

With that I turned my back and walked away with my head held high and no fear of reprisal. Maggie and Carol were still working through my words, and neither of them made a move to stop me.

Laura looked relieved when I walked out, blinking in the harsh sunlight. She took KJ from me, and I knew she was taking careful inventory of both of us, one tiny bruise and I felt like she might snap.

We left with less fanfare than we’d arrived with, and once buckled in for the drive back, I let out the laugh that I’d been holding in since I took my parting shot. Laura shook her head, waiting for me to clue her in to what was so funny. And I told her the entire tale, start to finish, her eyes widening as she heard every single warning I gave them. 

“Do you think they believe you?” She asked, pulling through the gates to take us home. 

I nodded. “They know me well enough to know that I don’t bluff where my family is concerned.” I smiled as I saw Negan stalking to the truck, “and they’d be stupid to think I’d start now.”


	54. Kneeling Negan?  NOT Just Yet

When Negan met the truck, I could see that he was relieved we were back, but I could also see that he was conflicted about who to check over first. I settled it for him, unbuckling our daughter from her seat and handing her to him. He did a careful and thorough inventory of all of Kiara’s limbs and skin that could be checked through her outfit, and I waited so we could finally get into our rooms.

“Are you finished?” I asked, my voice quiet because he had a crew of people kneeling in the dirt around us. “I’d like to talk to you in private.” 

His eyes met mine and I felt a flip in my stomach. “Of course, Callie,” he was expecting a more triumphant return, but damn it, he had to know this shit would take time. “Come on, sweetheart,” he kissed my forehead and took my hand, after handing Kiara back to me. “Let’s go home.”

Upstairs, after watching me feed Kiara, since she’d only had a bottle since we’d left, I could feel him holding off on bringing up what my meeting with Maggie had managed. I was rocking our little one, watching her nod off as she fed, when I started to tell him.

“I threatened her with retaliation the likes of which she’s never seen if she makes another move against us.” My voice was quiet, careful to keep Kiara eating and ready for bed. “And I meant it, and she knows that. She’ll be ready to negotiate once she rolls the reality of how well she knows me versus how well she imagines she knows you.” I looked up from our daughter’s calm face and pursed lips. “Trust me, Negan, Maggie knows precisely how ruthless I can be if challenged or if my family is threatened.” I could see he had doubts, and he wanted to know what I could possibly have done to be so scary.

“When?” The important question of course, when could we expect to head to the table to make the deal to keep us all safe. 

Kiara was finished, and her eyes were fluttering against the nap she’d fought off for too long. “Here, Daddy, burp our baby and we’ll get her ready for bed, and then we’ll discuss it over dinner.” 

He took her from me and I went to the kitchen and started our own meal. I watched as I prepared it, as he talked her through her burp, then changed her diaper and pulled out her pajamas. I had dinner in the oven when he motioned for me to follow him to our bathroom. We bathed her in the sink, carefully because she was clearly exhausted from her first trip outside the Sanctuary. Then, sweet smelling, dressed in her jammies, I went back to finish dinner while he went to put her down in her crib for the night.

I felt him before I saw him, his heat pressed against my back as I dished out our food onto plates, and then his lips against the base of my neck. “I hated you being out of my fucking sight, Callie.” I shook my head, but kept filling our plates. “Out of this building, without me, with just Laura? That shit can’t happen again, do you hear me?”

I stopped and turned, so his arms were wrapped around my back. “I am NOT a fairy princess, Negan.” Tilting my head back so I could look up at him, I saw he was about to argue. “I KNOW you think of me as your queen or princess or whatever, but I’m NOT one. I have fought, scratched, clawed, and killed, to survive this world, and I don’t want you to lose sight of that.”

“Callie, honey,” he was going to remind me that I didn’t HAVE to anymore. “That was before-”

I snorted. Turning back to the counter, I picked up our plates. “Grab the silverware?” I sidestepped him and his arms, and moved to our table. Sitting his plate down, I sat and waited for him to join me. He handed me my utensils and took his own seat. We ate for a few moments, before I finally sighed. “Before I met you?” His eyes met mine across the table. “I told you about Dad and how he took Mom’s death.” A nod, and I had to take a drink before I could continue. “I didn’t tell you how I took it.” 

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to-” I knew that he was thinking about when he told me about Lucille.

“Yes, I do.” I answered, reaching my hand across the table. “Mom died, giving birth to Judith, like I told you.” Fighting the wave of memories of the blood and gore of that day, I pushed on. “Dad went off the rails, but me? I internalized it all. I realized that every tiny little fucking thing that could go wrong, would go wrong in this world. Nowhere was safe, not really. I mean, even the prison, where she died. Dad and the others helped make it safe, for a while, but then this asshole with one eye came back because of-” I chuckled and our eyes met again. “The ‘Governor’, I almost forgot him, he was a lot like you.” Negan’s eyebrow raised. “Not,” I gestured between us, “like this, but he was sure that he had all the answers. He and Dad, unlike the two of you, tried a different path toward peace and it ended with him beaten and us making a life at the prison with most of his own people joining us.” 

“How long did it last?” Negan took his own drink. “The peace?”

“Not long enough,” I couldn’t remember how long it lasted, honestly. “We had a rush of a plague inside, well the flu, but it might as well been the fucking plague.” I remembered the first of Carol’s skeletons I knew about, her killing sick people in advance of their deaths, why Dad had exiled her. “Nothing is built to last forever in this fucking world, Negan. Even you know that.” He shook his head and I rolled my eyes. “Not that I won’t fight beside you to try to make our life last. Anyway, we were too complicit, he came back, and he killed Maggie’s dad in front of us all.” His eyes widened. “We split up, we were forced to, the walls got overrun by the dead, there was chaos. Dad and Carl were together, but me and Judith ended up with a different group.” The second notch in Carol’s skeletal closet horde. Lizzie. And because we didn’t see the danger fast enough, her sister Mika. “By the time we found them, everyone I mean, things had gotten bad. Cannibals and Claimers, things that most survivors never make it past.” 

Dinner was finished, somehow even talking I’d managed to eat through my own and his plate was empty. I stood up and took our plates to the sink to run water over them, but put off washing them for now. His hands pulled me back, sitting me on his lap at the table. “You don’t have to keep going, Callie,” he was looking up at me, but I shook my head again and smiled. 

“You still think that I was just a narrator or a witness, Negan, I wasn’t.” Cupping his face between my hands I kissed him gently. “I have killed men, women, and monsters just as easily as anyone you’ve ever met. It became muscle memory, I almost didn’t even have to think about what needed to be done, and their bodies would be down in front of me.” I thought about the band of feral people who had tried to overtake Alexandria. “I could blink and there would be a pile of bodies.” It was true, all of it. The path from Maggie’s farm to Alexandria was littered with bodies of the redead and the nearly killed, and none of them, not a single one stuck in my mind in detail of how I killed them. “My mouth gets me in trouble, that’s more true than not, but Negan, Dad kept me out of things not just for that reason, but I think even he had moments of fear of me.”

“You?” He was staring at me like he was FINALLY seeing me fully. “Callie, you killed to survive, what could be scary about that?”

I laughed, because I wished it were that simple. “Not everyone I killed was for my own survival, Negan. Some were because-” I shook my head working out how to explain. “If I felt there was a danger that no one else saw, or could see, then I wouldn’t hesitate to end it before it managed to grow roots.” Faces were flashing before my face, and I wished I could remember their names, but did that really matter anymore? “My family? My people? I would let the ground turn red with the blood of anyone who endangered it, or at least I would have, once upon a time.”

‘What changed?” His voice was low, but I could see he was as curious as ever. “Why would you think-”

“That I still have that part inside of me?” I smiled. “I stopped because Dad kept me out of the loop. And because I saw Carl’s face after I took down someone,” he was terrified, and I could still see how afraid he’d been. “I couldn’t stand to see him look more afraid of me than he’d been of anyone else. But it’s still in here, Negan,” I touched my chest with one finger. “And when you finally told me about Maggie and the other attempts, even if my keeping her secret from you helped her get that far, I felt the urge rise up again.” 

“You’d take on someone you considered family?” This was the part that seemed to shock him, that I was so damn loyal to my family, but that I would cut Maggie, or any other former family member down.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and stared deeply into his eyes. “YOU are my family. You and our daughter, Negan. Maggie made her place forfeit as soon as she chose to endanger us. IF she makes the right choice, which I think she will, then and only then will she maybe take a tiny step back into the familial fold.” I kissed him long and hard before pulling back and standing up. “You coming to bed?”

Shaking his head, like his mind was overflowing from the information I shared, he took my hand and followed me to our bedroom.


	55. Negan and I Are Always Raising the Bar

“So,” Negan started once we’d crossed the threshold of our bedroom. “I’m not sure you’ve earned me KNEELING for you, princess, but-” his long fingers were slowly tracing the skin that he could touch that wasn’t covered by my plaid dress. “I do think you’ve earned-”

I stopped him with a kiss, long, lingering, and aggressive. He never seemed to realize that being apart from him was as hard for me as it was for him. My fingers went to the hem of his shirt, pulling at it even as my mouth tasted and tempted him. Breaking the kiss to yank it off of him, I smiled as he took over, his mouth meeting mine while my fingers worked at his jeans. Negan’s fingers were pulling the skirt of my dress up, and I twitched into him as his fingers met my bared skin. 

“I think I want the dress to stay on,” he breathed, even as his fingers slipped into the waistband of my panties. “Maybe the boots too,” and then I heard a rip and the panties were gone. At the same time I finally freed him from his jeans, they dropped, and he kicked them away with his boots. 

We skipped the bed, Negan opting to press me into the wall beside our closet, bunching the skirt up around my hips, and then he slid inside of me and we made up for holding off earlier before I’d left. His mouth left mine, making a trail to where my breasts were pushed up in the bodice of my dress. He nipped at the bare flesh, causing me to arch into him. 

“Jesus, Negan,” I moaned, “maybe I should leave more often.” A growl came from him at the thought of it, and then he truly took me. Showing no mercy, but making absolutely certain that I was as fucking satisfied as he was.

We were in bed, wrapped up together, and I was finally free of the rest of my clothes AND boots. Tracing lightly along his chest, I smiled at how the two of us never seemed to lose it. The urge, the want, the NEED, for one another. 

“We haven’t been doing the porn method, Callie,” propping my head up, I saw that he was wearing his own content smile. “Aren’t you worried about-”

“Adding to our family?” I shook my head. “No, I’m not.” I knew that we would have more kids, we were too combustible to be happy with him pulling away from me before we could share the rush of our excitement for one another. And I loved our daughter, and him, so I knew the love would grow with more additions. “I didn’t want to have another one straight out of the fucking gates, Negan.” 

He chuckled, his fingers sliding through my hair that he’d pulled free from the braid I’d worn during my meeting. “Another Kiara?” Eyebrow raised at the thought of how demanding our little girl was at first caused me to laugh. “Another six weeks without getting fucking lost inside of you?” It was his turn to shake his head. “I’m not sure, Callie-”  
Smirking, I slid up his body so we were face to face. “Now that I KNOW that Kiara’s tiny head didn’t destroy my delicate fucking parts,” and yes, I meant those words in that fucking order, “I think we could find a way to keep the fire alive for those six weeks.”

Hands cupping my face, eyes locked on mine, he was moving in for a kiss when he reminded me of what I would never doubt again. “Our fire never fucking dies, Callie.” And then he took my breath away with another searing kiss, and we started over again, and again, and again.

It took Maggie a week to ask for another meeting. This time, when she contacted me through Dad, I made sure that Negan was present while I talked to her on the walkie. This way I wasn’t being eavesdropped on and he felt calmer because he knew what was going on first hand. 

The two of us, Maggie and I, decided to meet in Alexandria. Surrounded by our families, with the Kingdom included through Carol, we’d meet. Negan, I explained, would have to be there, since he was the one who made the final decisions, and I promised her that I’d know if it was going to be an ambush or trap. 

“It’s not,” she told me, and I hoped that I could still read her and her voice. “I thought about what you said, what you reminded me of about-” My mom, and Dad’s stellar reaction to the loss of her. “You’re right, letting it fester isn’t gonna help me or Hershel.” 

“Then we’ll meet and hash out the details,” I offered, wanting to get off before anything bad could happen. The meeting, in Alexandria, would happen in little over a week. Saying our goodbyes, I turned to see that Negan was studying me.

“I’ll have to send out scouts,” he told me and I nodded. “And since you and I are going, then-” he sighed and shut his eyes. “I really fucking hate having her with us, Callie, but if we don’t take her-”

“We’ll be freaked out too fucking much to get anything done,” I moved in to wrap my arms around him and press my ear against his chest. “Dad, Michonne, Carl, and Judith haven’t met her yet, Negan. She should know her family, outside of us.” His arms had enveloped me as soon as I got close, and I could hear him inhaling the scent of my hair. “Do you really think Dad would allow anything to fucking hurt us?” Me and Kiara were who I was alluding to, and I knew he understood when he chuckled. “Alexandria is safe, and you’ll get to speak to both Maggie AND Carol, so no surprises from the Kingdom after this is hammered out.” 

Negan sighed. I knew his fears, they were mine too, but we had to try.


	56. Tried to Fucking Tell Him, But Did He Listen?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What did Negan expect when we finally visited Dad under the cloud of negotiations? Did he think that my family would NEVER share what I was like before he came along and 'tamed' me? And why are his eyes growing darker, his tongue licking his lips...Holy shit, is he getting horny?

For the week before our meeting in Alexandria, Negan worked with his most trusted, and the ones that I’d pegged as being the most loyal, to scout the ins and outs from the three communities to be certain of any possible hiding spots, prospective places for an ambush, and other security measures. By some stroke of luck, the Saviors didn’t make contact with anyone from the other communities, so there wasn’t anything more that we’d have to work to get past with the others. 

The days passed as we hammered out what Negan would be willing to agree to, for our family’s and our people’s safety. We also discussed the possibility of adding a baby to our little family. I loved Carl and Judith, and I knew that their additions to our family had calmed me down slightly, so that was one of my reasons for wanting another little person. Negan, beaming like he had when he first told me I might be pregnant, said that he couldn’t wait to see Dad’s face when he learned we were thinking of round two. 

“Seriously, Negan, if you aren’t careful, I’ll think the ONLY reason you want to be with me and Kiara is because it burns Dad’s ass,” which it didn’t anymore, but I didn’t want to remind him since he’d have to come up with a new way to push Dad’s buttons. And me being loud in Dad’s laundry room was one thing, but with my luck, my loving husband would decide to mount me in Dad’s front yard to get the point across so to speak.

He smiled and pulled me onto his lap, since Kiara was down for the night and dinner was finished, we were in the living room discussing the future. He buried his face in my neck and I could feel his grin grow. “Do I have to remind you just how much I love you, princess?” I could feel his ‘love’ growing underneath me. “How much I want you, need you, and can’t fucking live without you?” His lips opened and he kissed my skin, flicking his tongue against my pulse. “Second baby or not, Callie,” he lifted me into his arms and started for our bedroom. “I will fucking love you until my final breath.” He put me down on our bed and I watched as his smile grew. “Poking Rick about how much you love me back is just a fucking added bonus.” 

I was laughing as he tore our clothing off and didn’t stop until he slid inside me. And then, as always, Negan and I forgot the entire fucking world and got lost in one another.

Dad met us at the gates, his eyes lighting up as he finally laid eyes on Kiara Jade for the first time. She was giggling in my arms, red hair and loud, and I knew he could see the resemblance. 

“Oh, Callie,” he breathed, taking her carefully from me. His eyes were drinking her in as though she was fresh water on a hot day. “She looks just like you did,” Michonne was beside him after greeting me, and she was smiling at my little girl. “You’re Kiara Jade, huh?” He kissed her forehead and she giggled at the feeling of his whiskers, so similar to her daddy’s. “I’m your-”

“This is Pappy Rick, Jade,” Negan boomed, and I fought rolling my eyes. “He’s your grandpa, worn down and grandpa like, right Rick?” 

Dad snorted, and shot Negan a look that said, ‘wanna compare driver’s licenses’, but let it go. He was enchanted, as everyone who met our little girl seemed to be. Carrying her to his house, Michonne tried, once or twice, to convince him to let her hold our baby, but he teasingly denied her. Carl was waiting with Judith, and my heart grew. My family was together, once Daryl popped out of the house that is. 

“Maggie and Carol, and their people, are coming in tomorrow,” Dad was confirming with Negan. He’d conceded Kiara to Michonne and my stepmother was on the floor with her and Judith playing and making sure Judith knew her niece. “I thought we could use the Monroe house, it’s still empty. And it’s easy to keep-” 

“Contained,” Daryl offered, nodding. “If this is gonna work, we gotta keep shit under control. No one can lose their fucking cool.” His eyes were on Negan, but I thought he was forgetting how volatile I could be. 

“I’ll try to keep everything nice and sweet,” I offered, causing the men in my life to all focus on me and raise their eyebrows. “What? I can be nice and sweet.” And that did it, the tension broke as each one of them thought of at least ONE time I was anything but ‘sugar and spice’. 

Daryl snorted first, “like that time that you yanked the ear off-” I glared at him and he grinned. 

“Or oh god, that time when your knife got stuck in that guy’s-” another glare, this time at my dad and his laughter grew. Negan was looking around the room as Carl and Michonne tried to tell some of my dirtier secrets, getting stopped by a single look from me. 

“I think Callie’s been holding out on me,” I rolled my eyes. “Sounds like you’re pretty fucking fierce, baby girl.” His eyes met mine and I could feel the heat in his look. Shit, the thought of me being homicidal was turning his ass on. 

“I tried to tell you,” I muttered, looking down at our tiny flame haired girl. “If she’s anything like me,” a collective groan went around the room, leaving only Negan, Judith, me and Kiara out of it. “Oh shut up,” I barked at my family. “Kept your asses safe, didn’t it.” 

“Technically, the guy whose ear you ripped off was only coming at me because ya told him I was faster with a crossbow than he was with a gun, and he was a pussy.” Daryl offered, and then the others chipped in how I had possibly caused the problems that I ended up solving through violence. 

“But did you die?” I asked, and Negan laughed, making my lips quirk into a smile. “I mean, my mouth MIGHT have helped those assholes make the wrong decision, but you all survived and that was definitely thanks to me.” 

“Keep telling yourself that, Cal,” Carl offered, picking up his niece and grinning at the giggles she seemed to freely give. “Just hope Ki-Ki doesn’t take after you.”


	57. Football, Dada, and the Worst Day Ever?

Negan, Kiara, and I stayed at Dad’s house, in my old room. Well, Negan and I stayed in my old room, Kiara was spirited away by her grandparents because she had them wrapped around her tiny little finger. Seeing Negan in the bed he’d replaced mine with, looking for all the world as he may if we were in our own home, made my entire body shake with longing. 

“Callie,” he kept his voice quiet, even if there was a HUGE part of him that wanted to make Dad cringe, “can you think of a better place for us to try giving Kiara a sibling than where she was conceived?” I grinned, crawling into the bed with him. 

“Technically, Negan,” I offered, licking up his bare chest and smiling as he groaned at my teasing. “We created Kiara in the fucking laundry room.” His arms reached for me, and his lips met mine as he pulled me to him. “Not feeling up to a field trip downstairs?” I whispered and laughed as he rolled me onto my back and attacked my neck. 

“Fuck it, princess,” he growled into my shoulder as he nipped my skin. “I figure we can make baby number two in this fucking room, then any others-”

I gasped as his tongue found my nipple, wondering how I was missing his steady progress down my fucking body. “Others?” I lurched and arched as he kept moving lower. “Who says I want more than two?”

“There are a shit ton of fucking rooms in this house, Callie,” he muttered, his tongue and lips wreaking havoc on my body. “I figure we’ll end up with a fucking football team just by making sure we get around to every room.” Fuck, I thought, wanting to argue that we didn’t NEED a football team, but then his mouth completely short circuited my brain.

Morning came too fucking soon, for both of us. I had to smile as I heard my wonderful husband muttering the same obscenities that I normally offered to the fucking birds that dared remind me that shit was happening outside the window in the bright as fuck sunlight. A chuckle came when he tossed a pillow at the window as if it would stop the birdsong or turn out the light. 

“Oh no,” fighting to sound serious. “Did my darling husband, morning person of the fucking decade, catch my irritation with all things perky?” He growled and pulled me closer. “Should I try to reverse our normal routine, baby? Want me to show you that mornings aren’t as shitty as they could be?” I felt him twitch against me. “I’ll take that as a yes,” and I started to kiss down his bare body to show him just how good waking up with me can really be.

Breakfast, after making Negan louder than I’d been in the laundry room our first time and a long shower to make up for the achy muscles we both were feeling, was hilarious. Seeing Daryl looking at Negan like he was disgusted by him and the debauchery he clearly forced on me, which nearly made me choke on my juice. Which is probably why Daryl wasn’t meeting my eyes. Dad was attempting to discuss the summit of sorts that we’d be having with Hilltop and Kingdom, taking my attention from Daryl and Negan’s face off to ask him if he was joining us.

“I think I should,” I nodded, agreeing that Dad’s presence made sense. “Once we get word they’re here, we’ll head over to the house.” 

“Kiara stays here,” Negan offered, finishing his food as he smiled at our little girl bouncing on Carl’s knee. He’d fed her, after a brief showdown between him and her daddy, and I had to diffuse the situation by raving about how happy I’d been that a run had found me a breast pump. “Isn’t that right, princess? Dada,” he offered, wanting nothing more than to hear her say her first word and for it to be his title. “Dada thinks that his princess should play with Judith.” He elongated the word, hoping that she’d mimic him, and I had a flash of terror that she’d repeat her first slight to Negan that also happened in Alexandria and shot Dad a look. He shook his head, and I would have felt better, but he accompanied it with a smirk. Fuck. 

“Judith and Hershel,” Michonne offered, Judith sitting next to her, trying to reach for her new favorite toy, my daughter. “Since I’m sure Maggie will let me watch him while she’s occupied with-” A nod of gesture toward Negan, as though he was the main focus, which I guess he was. “I think we’ll take a picnic-” but Negan cut her off.

“Keep them inside,” he realized it came out sharp and sounded like an order, so he tempered it with a, “please?” I nodded my agreement, inside, at least until everything was settled. Inside and controlled. Safe. 

Once breakfast was finished, dishes washed, Negan and Dad went to the former Monroe house to make sure everything was in order. I was holding Kiara at the same window her daddy had wrapped himself around me to try to convince me to come home with him, showing her the neighborhood that had once been my life. Michonne, making sure that Judith was occupied with her toys and that Carl had his own distractions, joined me.

“She’s happy,” I smiled as I kissed my little one’s soft curls. “And she looks frighteningly like her mother.” That made me laugh, causing Kiara to join in. 

“She acts like me too,” I offered, meeting my stepmother’s eyes. “Demanding, loud-”

“Has Negan wrapped around her little finger,” she offered, her smile blinding as she reached out and giggling as Kiara bounced to try to get to her. Willingly releasing my tiny one to her safe hands, I watched as she held her as naturally as she’d taken to mothering the three of us. “You know she started making sounds that sounded suspiciously like a word last night, don’t you?” I waited, knowing that I was about to find out that Kiara Jade was going to end up grounded until she was thirty by her daddy. “‘Pop-pop’,” she offered, and Kiara, the tiny headstrong traitor echoed the very clear words. Fuck. 

“Damn it,” I muttered, seeing my little girl sealing her own soon to be grounded state. “You couldn’t have just followed normal fucking standards, could you?” She was giggling up at me and I sighed. “Let’s hope that she doesn’t give that little performance a go before we get shit settled, right?” 

Maggie, her people and her baby boy, followed closely by Carol and her contingent came soon after Dad and Negan returned from doing a last sweep of the Monroe house. I held Kiara, as I greeted my former family members, and waited to see if weapons would be drawn or an attack made. None came, thank God, but it was still tense. 

And then, as Michonne was about to take Kiara from me while Carl was reaching for Hershel, it happened. The one fucking way to truly unleash Negan’s utter illogical irritation in full force. My little girl, Negan’s pride and joy, started to cry and reach out. For my dad, and then she screamed, clear as a fucking bell, “POP-POP!”

Shit. Negan took a huge fucking breath, and I waited, feeling like we were all about to hear an atomic explosion of pissed off daddy to come roaring out and ruin the entire fucking attempt before we even got started. Dad moved to Kiara, kissing her head and whispering that he would be close, that he was going over to the house and pointing to it, while shooting Negan a warning look. Fuck.

What saved the day? Maggie laughed, then Carol, then Michonne joined in, soon even Laura offered a chuckle and somehow, someway, that diffused it. Kiara, loving the sound of laughter, giggled tears still shining, but the giggles fixed it all. Negan moved close, standing close to Dad without hesitation or any sense of discomfort, and kissed her head and smiled down at her. I heard, because I was right beside them, him whisper that her and Dada had a LOT to talk about after his meeting and I snorted. Dear God. 

As the little ones went off with Michonne and Carl, the rest of us went to the Monroe house where I hoped like fuck we could figure something out that made the tension we just felt moments before seem like the worse thing that could happen today.


	58. Hammering Out The Details..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, remember that this is NOT the angsty one. So if you're planning on being pissed that the issues get resolved in this fast and furious, sorry not sorry.
> 
> Second of all, I nearly laughed myself shitless over the title for this chapter (I watched Thor Ragnarok today, I'm a bit slap happy stupid right now, sue me). 
> 
> Third, this one is winding up, only a few more chapters and then we'll put Negan, Callie, and Kiara to bed.

I won’t go into detail about the negotiations. I will tell you that Negan didn’t rage, or threaten, or scare, or irritate anyone. I didn’t either, if anyone was worried about that. The entire point was to come to a mutually beneficial understanding with minimal death and destruction. And we managed it. 

Hilltop and Kingdom were both well suited for growing crops and animal husbandry, so they were willing to provide surplus goods for the Sanctuary and Alexandria as long as it didn’t overly burden their own stocks. Negan offered the same deal that his own people had, through runs and the Sanctuary marketplace, perhaps bartering with extra goods could make sure that the other communities were given more staples that couldn’t be grown or raised. 

I mostly listened. My presence as a buffer, and a reminder of my threat, nothing more. And I was fine with it. Seated beside Negan, our fingers linked, our wedding rings flashing in the light to remind the two women who had once been my allies just where my loyalty lay, I was his queen in every sense of the word.

There were tense moments. How could there not be, Negan had killed people they cared about, and you can’t undo that. Yet, somehow, we managed to work out a deal that left everyone satisfied.

“You won’t be sending your people to collect things anymore,” Carol wanted this bit reaffirmed, and I was getting restless by the repeated conversation. 

“That’s right, since your representatives,” I was very proud of myself for not using all of my heaviest profanity to get the point across, I sounded like a goddamn grown up. “Can’t go through the marketplace from your communities, you’ll bring the supplies to the Sanctuary and they can look through the stores and see what barters they care to make for those things your runners haven’t successfully found.” 

Negan’s fingers tightened on mine, sensing my boredom and irritation. I wanted to be with Kiara, and my family, this was growing tiresome. “We’ll only come to you if you ask us to, and we’ll still provide aid, security, if needed.” 

Nods all around, and I shifted in my seat, ready to go. “Wait, Callie,” Maggie asked and I stopped with a barely controlled sigh. “I have to say one thing, before we move on.” Shit. “I’ll never forgive you for-” her eyes were on Negan and she had to stop to control the tremor I heard in her voice. She wasn’t willing to let him see how torn apart she still felt. “I can’t forgive you for killing him.” She couldn’t even say Glenn’s name, not here, not in front of my husband. “This is a start,” she sighed, and her eyes met mine with a small smile trying to curve up her lips. “Callie was persuasive, and I think she was right.” With that, she held out her hand to Negan, and he took it formally sealing the deal, so to speak.

Our family, with Carol, Maggie, Herschel, and Enid included, had dinner together. Negan, Kiara, and I were staying one more night, wanting to give Dad and Michonne more time with our baby, and I had a feeling he wanted to cross another room or two off the list of perspective baby making spots. 

It was almost like old times, with Carol and Daryl’s heads almost touching while they quietly talked about who knew what, Maggie laughing at Michonne’s stories of Judith’s newest demands, and Dad holding Kiara while trying to see if she was ready for soft foods. I wondered, as I watched my family, almost whole again, if this could really be our new reality. A shared life, even if we all had our own communities, like our lives might have been if the world hadn’t went to shit.

That night, hours after Maggie and Carol had headed back to their own communities, after we watched Kiara hug Herschel, Negan was pulling me into the pantry and I was shaking my head. The pantry? Really?

“You want our next baby to be conceived beside noodles and flour?” I asked with a laugh as he pulled me into his arms and kissed me breathless. “Guess we could come up with food names, how does ‘Tomato’ sound?” He growled and I stopped teasing, since my mouth and body became occupied with other worries.

Leaving Alexandria wasn’t ever going to be easy. Not when our daughter was throwing a tantrum that had me feeling jealous. She was demanding that ‘Pop-Pop’ stay with her, as she clung to him and puckered her tiny lip. Damn it. 

“Princess,” Negan was pleading, quietly, while pretending that NO ONE could see him. “You have to come home with Dada and Mommy.” Kiara buried her face in Dad’s shoulder, screaming what sounded like ‘No’. Ut oh. “Dada,” his teeth were clenched, since not only had our daughter’s first word been her moniker for Dad, but now she added a second to her vocabulary and it still wasn’t ‘dada’. “Will be sad if Kiara Jade doesn’t come home with him. Do you want to make Dada sad, sweetheart?” I watched, praying against everything I owned that she’d come quietly. 

Kiara peeked out from Dad’s shoulder, looking at her Dada with his dramatic pout, and she smiled a little. Thank goodness. Negan held out his hands and she tilted toward him, allowing him to take her from Dad. Shit. Crisis averted. She got kisses from our family, and then, buckling her into her car seat, we climbed into the truck and headed home. 

“Listen up, little one,” Negan said as we started down the road. “Dada hasn’t forgotten our talk, you’re in BIG trouble.” And Kiara, showing the same self preservation skills as her mother where her daddy was concerned, gave the loudest tinkling giggle yet and I had to turn to face the window to keep from joining her. 

Driving into the Sanctuary, I took a moment to stretch before I let Negan help me to my feet and hand me Kiara. Then, as we walked back into our life, our home, surrounded by our people, I barely noticed the people kneeling. Since Negan was beside me, it made sense. 

“I have to go check with Simon,” Negan muttered, glancing to where one of my least favorite assholes was waving. “I’ll see you upstairs,” kissing me, then dropping a kiss onto Kiara’s head, Laura took his spot. 

Usually when Negan left my side, the people got to their feet, but this time? They stayed on their knees. I opened my mouth to ask Laura what the hell, then shut it, and my eyes. Fuck. 

“He told them you earned it,” my guard offered, her grin huge thanks to my discomfort. “You’re our queen for real now, Boss.” She nudged me, making me move again, since I seemed stunned stupid. 

“‘OUR queen’?” I raised an eyebrow once we were out of the eyes of the kneeling populace. “Don’t you fucking dare.” I warned her, as I saw the smirk come on.

“So does that mean I can’t call you ‘your highness’?” I groaned and she laughed. “Don’t worry, Boss, you’re still just Callie to me.”


	59. First, Second, Third, and Fourth

When Negan came upstairs, I had already put Kiara down for her nap, lunch was on the table and he was sighing as he sat down across from me. I waited until he tucked in, taking up my own fork and asking him what was wrong.

“Do I want to know what Porn Stache found so important to call you away?” I asked, biting into lunch with relish. 

Negan snorted around his own bite and shook his head. “Bullshit,” he offered, once his mouth was empty. “He wanted to discuss complete and utter fucking bullshit.” Another sigh, and he kept eating and told me that Simon wanted him to know that not all of our Saviors were excited about the peaceful end to the conflict with Hilltop and Kingdom. And I imagined by “not all” Simon meant him and some other assholes I could give a shit about on the daily.

“Should we worry?” I asked, still eating carefully while watching my husband ponder my question. 

Huffing out a breath, he seemed conflicted. “Knee jerk reaction is ‘no, of course fucking not’, Callie, but-”

“But you know I think Simon can’t be trusted,” I leaned back in my chair and considered our options. “You could nip it in the bud and fucking kill his traitorous ass.” Negan was smirking, but he was also giving me that dark eyed look that spoke volumes about whose ass he was actually thinking about. 

“Or you could,” his voice had gone lower, to that deep dark place I loved. 

“I swear, Negan,” I offered, as I got the dirty plates gathered and in the sink. “The thought of me murdering someone turns you on,” his arms wrapping around me as his body pressed against my back confirmed it. I rocked my hips back and felt just how fucking hot he got from the IDEA of me killing Simon. “Homicide is an aphrodisiac?” His lips meeting my neck had me thinking that I didn’t fucking care what turned him on, as long as he was ready, willing, and fucking able. 

“You covered in blood?” He growled and his teeth took a turn on my sensitive skin. “Fuck, baby doll, that could be hotter than you wearing damn near any thing.” 

I leaned back into him, letting Negan’s mouth and hands take me along for a hot ride. “So you want to see me coated in blood?” Gasping when his hips thrust into me, still fully clothed but not for long. “Like Elizabeth Bathory?” He paused so I chose to paint a truly fucked up picture. “She was a Hungarian countess, accused of bathing in the blood of peasant girls to keep her youth.” His hands were tugging my clothes off as I spoke. “You want me to walk up to Simon and tell him that I’ll be bathing in his blood like the Countess, and as though he were a simple peasant girl for my fucked up beauty regime?” 

I didn’t get to give Negan anymore history lessons, since he had me filled full before I could go on. 

The weeks went by as we took heart in the new normal that came from using negotiation instead of headsmashing to win over allies. Laura told me that Simon’s insinuation that there was disagreement in our course of action was over exaggerated. Were there pockets of discord? Yes, and I had more than a suspicion that those pockets were stirred by the man himself. Fucker.

Negan was watching me like I was a ticking bomb and I was thinking he was on pins and needles waiting for me to take him up on his offer to let me help Simon take his final breath on this planet, until I missed my period. Fuck. That was the point, as I watched his fucking eyes light up like he’d inserted fucking glowsticks in his ears, of his constant studying my person. Damn it, I’d been so wrapped up in the intrigues of our fucking community, that I missed the obviousness of his interest. 

He was whistling as he brought me a pregnancy test to our rooms, saving me the trouble of going to the infirmary. I rolled my eyes and took it from him, while he picked up Kiara and bounced her, making her giggle wildly. Since my husband was occupied with trying futilely to get our daughter to say ‘dada’, I got to tinkle alone. I came out, leaving the test on the countertop, to see his eyes wide and thought maybe she’d finally given him his wish. 

“Fuck,” our daughter said, with such certainty that I felt my own eyes go round. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Shit, I thought, that wasn’t ‘dada’ either.

“Negan?” His eyes met mine and I could almost see him trying to come up with an explanation. Biting my lip to keep from laughing, I shook my head. “We could always tell people she thinks that’s the word for ‘dada’?” I shrugged as his eyes narrowed. “I mean, I say it and you come running.” 

“Callie,” his voice was sounding like a threat, but his eyes were twinkling. “You and I both know that when you’re saying it, I’m cumming inside you, and I’m not running.” That did it, we both started laughing as our daughter began basically chanting her newest word. “Princess,” he was trying to fight his laughter, and look serious at our little one. “That’s not a word that little ladies should be saying.” 

This made me snort so loud that both of them stared at me. “Sorry, but I happen to know that is complete and utter-” I stopped just in time to NOT say ‘bullshit’. Let’s not add to her vocabulary just yet. “Nonsense. Mommy says that word ALL the time, Dada.” I raised an eyebrow and realized that our apartment was going to start being far more Sesame Street and a LOT less Tarantino. 

Three LONG minutes, for parents of a toddler who liked the word ‘fuck’ more than she liked the word ‘Pop-Pop’, later Negan happily handed over tot wrangling to me to check the pregnancy test. Silence descended as I waited, even Kiara had grown quiet. Then, after hearing the toilet flush, and realizing that he’d taken a beat to take care of nature, he was in the doorway staring at his two girls. 

“‘Tomato’?” My grin started growing as I realized we’d managed to make a second person. “I think we’re gonna have to think of a better name, sweetheart.” And then he was on the bed with Kiara and me, hugging us both and telling our little girl she was going to be a big sister. 

And then, clear as a bell, she did it. She made him even fucking happier. “Dada.” Out of the blue, no coaxing, and it was out. “Dada.” She bounced a little and then, since clearly we could never have a simple family moment without a little embarrassment added in, she clapped and said, “Fuck.”


	60. The Finale...Grand or--

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you keep track of the chapter titles, you read this one correctly. This is the FINAL chapter of Ass.

Negan kept me blissfully unaware of anymore upheaval that Simon or anyone else in the Sanctuary might be feeling or causing due to our deal with the other communities. Since Laura kept me more informed, I knew that Simon was risking exile or worse, since he wasn’t being as careful with his rebel rousing as he should have been. 

Dr. Carson was smiling as he did Kiara’s check up and then performed one on me, the slowly growing mother of one and a half. He told Negan, and me since I was in the room, that both of his ladies were progressing normally and perfectly. I swear to fuck, my husband looked like he was somehow completely to blame or compliment for it. Strutting peacock, emphasis on cock.

As I grew bigger, somehow my body dealing better with the changes than it had the first go around, Negan told me that Dad was coming to the Sanctuary. It dawned on me, as my husband looked clusterfucked full of glee, that we hadn’t told Dad and the rest of our family that we were adding to the family tree. For fuck’s sake, he was planning on doing it in front of a crowd. I paled when I realized he’d be doing it in front of a crowd that was KNEELING to me. Shit, fuck, shit. Seriously, Satan? Couldn’t you tell your fucking offspring to chill his shit, at least for the sanity of the mother of your fucking grandchildren?

Laura was the first to tell me Simon’s fate, trying to keep the utter contempt for the man out of her voice, but failing when it was overtaken by the sheer happiness at giving me the news that he was currently housed on the fence. I must have blinked, because she laughed and told me he joined the former wives as permanent company. Oh, shit. 

“So he’s gone,” my own smile growing at the knowledge that one shit stirrer was forever gone. “Well,” my hand fell to my huge bump, the baby inside nudging me eagerly. “That’s just fucking amazing news.” 

“What’s amazing news?” Negan had come into the apartment, grinning widely as Kiara greeted him with a chorus of ‘dada’. Stopping long enough to pick her up from the blanket she was playing on, he joined me on the sofa. Laura was sitting comfortably in the chair and laughed when Kiara offered the f-word to the ass end of ‘dada’. “Mommy and Dada will talk about that later, princess,” his eyes locked on mine and I laughed at his insinuation. “What news is so fu-” he stopped himself, but it was a close one. “So freaking amazing?” 

“Simon’s new job,” I offered, letting myself snuggle into his side, as his free hand fell automatically to the knot that had returned in full force to my back. “I hear your former wives have company.” 

He chuckled, kissing Kiara’s head as she leaned closer too. My mini me, always mirroring me in the sweetest ways. “Yeah, well, my queen refused to fulfill my request.” I slapped his chest and Kiara smacked him too. “Stop that, you two.” He looked at me as our little one giggled, snuggling and snuffling against her daddy’s chest. “I wanted the danger contained before this little person comes screaming out, plus your dad is coming this week, and I don’t want to hear more fucking-” with that slip, the chorus began from our tiny demon. “Shit.” My eyes locked on his and my lips pursed. He sighed, and I bit my lip, knowing that the two of us sucked at containing our profanity. “No more muttering and talks of mutiny,” he growled, making Kiara start giggling again and trying to mimic him. “You like that, princess? You like Dada growling?” And then they were on the floor playing monster.

“Thank God money isn’t a thing anymore,” I told Laura and he growled and the flame haired toddler joined him. “We’d be broke as-” I stopped, taking a beat to NOT swear. “We’d be broke if we were forced to use a swear jar.” 

Dad brought Carl with him to the Sanctuary and his eyes nearly fell out of his head when he took in my condition. Carl just shook his head as though wondering if my fucking sanity should be tested. 

“Another baby?” Dad asked, his hand cupping my bump, in awe. “Oh, Callie.” 

“And guess what, Pappy?” Negan boomed, bringing Kiara over to our small group. “This one likes me better, I already fu-” I shot him a look and he bit his lip. “I felt the baby move already.” 

Dad raised an eyebrow at him, knowing that something had to be fucking up for Negan to NOT utter a single cuss word in two sentences. “Kiara’s vocabulary is growing.” He nodded, catching on with a smirk. “She really likes words that begin with ‘f’.” 

“So does her mommy,” Carl offered, reaching for Kiara and smiling as she practically leaped into her uncle’s arms. “Hey, Ki-Ki, you’re growing so fast.” She growled and made the claw hands that Negan had taught her. “Oooh, scary.” He pretended to be frightened causing her to giggle. “There’s the Ki-Ki I remember.” 

We took the tour with Dad, Negan pointing out areas as we moved along, members of our community hitting their knees as we walked and not getting up until both Negan and I were out of sight. Fucking weird, people, that’s what it felt like, even if I didn’t show it. Which I didn’t, because Carl grinned at me and said he always knew I was a drama queen, but this was a whole new level for me. 

“Shut up,” I said, hip checking my baby brother as Dad and Negan kept moving further ahead of us. Laura was behind us, and Carl glanced back as if he had questions. “Laura?” She stepped beside me. “Carl, this is my head guard and best friend Laura. Laura, this is my snot faced little brother Carl.” 

A nod from both, but I was happy to see them smiling. “You keep my sister and niece safe?” He asked, looking between the three of us. She nodded. “Good. She deserves it. They both do.”

The visit went well, Dad and Carl learning how the barter system worked from a first person point of view. They left, long before the day's end, promising to come back more often, and making us promise to tell them when our second little one came along. Hugging them tight, smiling as Kiara tried to throw another epic fit when she realized her Pop-Pop and Car was leaving, I watched as they faded from view. 

Negan wrapped himself around me from behind, propping his chin on my shoulder, hands cupping my bump. “I love you, Callie Grimes.” Kiara was playing happily behind us on the blanket, her giggles and baby talk punctuated with the words she was most proud of ‘dada’, ‘mom-mom’ and ‘fuck’ being the most prominent. I chuckled and leaned back into him. “I love our baby girl, and I love our fu- Our life.” 

“I love you, too,” I sighed. And he shifted, trying to see why I sighed. “Don’t let me go full throttle bitch this round? Please?” 

He was laughing as he turned me to face him, his lips meeting mine. When he pulled back, his smile held. “I make no promises, Callie, because I kind of like you in bitch mode.” 

And then, because this was our life, from the floor a tiny voice uttered a new word. And as the chorus of ‘bitch’ began, I was shaking my head and my husband was leaning in to steal another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, here it is, the final chapter.
> 
> Now before everyone prepares to go full on beast mode in the comments, there's a reason I didn't put this in a package and tie it up with a pretty red bow. 
> 
> The sex of the second grandchild of Satan's favorite offspring is left cloudy because I like to think that regardless of whether Negan and Callie end up with a soccer team of girls or half and half doesn't matter. In the end, their children are going to have all their best, and worst qualities...and that shit is SCARY. 
> 
> I didn't want to keep inserting more of the canon timeline than necessary for my story, because this one was for FUN. And smut. A LOT of smut. 
> 
> So this is where it ends, use your imaginations to figure out what comes next. I promise I won't hate on anyone who does. 
> 
> And once again, thank you all for reading!


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